Secrets
by HellhoundBound
Summary: Sam has noticed a change in Dean's behaviour, and with it a change in their hunts – every creature seems afraid of Dean and Sam can't work out why, but he knows it makes him nervous. Dean is keeping the reason hidden from his brother, for reasons of his own. It appears no creature messes with the mate of an angel...rated M for later chapters/flashbacks
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, I have to clear a few things up for you lovely people before you start reading this, just in case you all get pissed at my haphazard writing every time an update is posted (my writing isn't always haphazard, I promise…this is just kind of turning out muddled). **

**This eh, 'story' is a running timeline of the present, intercepted by a collection of flashback 'moments' between Dean and Castiel leading up to their 'union'. **

**It takes place pre-apocalypse, but I am planning on re-locating the 'pizza man' scene from season 6 simply because it fits with my timeline. I think we'll all agree that it could have happened at any time and is not absolutely relative to season 6. Some other small facts might be tweaked.**

**Paragraphs written in normal text are taking place in the present timeline, post-angel-sexyness. These are in chronological order.**

**Paragraphs written entirely in italics are flashbacks. They relate to incidents that have some sort of importance to the Dean/Cas dynamic. They can be read as separate incidents not really in any specific order, but will generally be presented in order of increasing significance…**

**Text in italics during normal paragraphs, **_**and**_** text in normal form during flashbacks, are inner thoughts (pretty self-evident, but it doesn't hurt to explain anyway) **

**I really hope this little list hasn't put you off reading this…So I'll leave you with the summary and hope you stick with me through my madness. **

**Title****: Secrets  
****Rating****: M (for the content of some flashbacks and later chapters)  
****Pairing(s)****: Castiel/Dean**

**Warnings****: The ever-present obvious blasphemy, male-on-male action (again, pretty obvious), general descriptions of sexual acts. Also, my jumbled and completely ridiculous writing might drive you to insanity…I feel it's appropriate to include this in the warnings.**

**Summary****: Sam has noticed a change in Dean's behaviour, and with it a change in their hunts – every creature seems afraid of Dean and Sam can't work out why, but he knows it makes him nervous. Dean is keeping the reason hidden from his brother, for reasons of his own. **

_Day 11 – 1.02 AM_

It had not been a subtle or gradual change, Sam thought to himself. It had happened very suddenly, and after one week, it had been undeniable.

He lay awake, sprawled on his back and staring straight at the ceiling, in the latest cheap motel bed he was temporarily calling his own.

The circumstances of their lives were constantly changing; the situations they found themselves in were unpredictable and chaotic and always a new experience…and yet, some things always remained the same.

The motel rooms changed, but were always comically class-less establishments with suspicious stains on the mattresses, a smell of mildew in the kitchenette cupboards, mould on the bathroom tiles.

There were often creatures they had dealt with before; they had established protocols, rules and go-to weapons. When the creatures were new, they could always count on Bobby. When the situations were over their heads and threatened to overwhelm them, they could usually count on Cas.

The all-night diners changed; Dean's order didn't.

The motels changed; the state of the rooms hardly ever did.

The names on their drivers' licenses and FBI identification cards changed, but the air of authority and confidence was unwavering, always unchallenged.

Their schedules always changed, but the essentials remained the same; a running set of core details that never varied all that much.

So why now, deprived of sleep and fidgeting with the sheets between his fingers, did Sam feel an uneasy feeling climbing up his spine?

He had lived with this feeling for ten days now. Ten days had passed since all _this_ started. At first he thought it was an incredibly awesome stroke of luck, that the nest of vampires they'd tracked across three states turned out to be clumsy, fleeing cowards that proved incredibly easy to kill. That the rogue psychic in Wisconsin who used her powers for increasingly evil deeds had seen them coming, and their meticulous planning on how to surprise her had been unnecessary; she was imprisoned the day before they reached her town, after apparently turning herself in to police.

By day six Sam attempted to convince himself that it was a bunch of weird coincidences. The pack of young skinwalkers - who banded together and staged killing-frenzies on large groups of police officers for kicks – had just happened to flee for their lives before two humble hunters for some completely _rational_ reason.

Day seven brought with it the point where Sam's denial had crumbled, and he had accepted that the instinctual sense of unease had a justified reason.

He had sat alone in the motel room, mentally scolding Dean for taking so long collecting their food. Anna had appeared without warning, and his initial curiosity about her appearance had quickly led way to an understanding that this was not a pleasant visit. She looked void of emotion, like a machine, and Sam had sensed she had entered some sort of detached battle-mode. She had accidentally short-circuited the entire block and the surrounding area just because Sam had cautiously asked her if anything was wrong.

He recalled, with a sick feeling in his stomach, the way her eyes had trained straight on his; boring accusing but saddened holes into him. He had instinctually backed away from her, until his back had bumped the wall beside the door, maintaining eye-contact. She must have just acquired her knowledge mere moments before finding him, the initial shock having just given way to the strange robotic way in which she conducted herself. She found an air of calm in her voice, and spoke. She had visited the prophet Chuck, who had envisioned the future; a future in which Sam had 'fallen off the wagon', as Bobby or Dean would put it, and had turned once again to tapping into a reserve of demonic power. This was unacceptable, and in doing so Sam was jeopardising the entire 'plan'.

Anna had taken it upon herself to eliminate this threat.

Sam had gaped at her, wide-eyed and disbelieving. She stated calmly, completely emotionless, that Sam had to die. She had thought this through, she explained, and had decided to disobey her orders and take on the problem. Leaving Sam unattended to 'flourish'; that was just foolish.

Sam braced himself; there was nothing he could do under such a sudden attack, by a being that was more or less un-killable. She had raised her hand in preparation, her mouth appearing to want to say something, but she was interrupted.

The door swung casually on its hinges to reveal Dean standing on the threshold. His eyes had shot open when he realised what Anna's intention was, and he had instantly dropped the food he carried to place himself between the angel and his brother. _Not even knowing the reason behind her decision_, Sam had thought. _He's sacrificing himself for me, and he doesn't even know why_. He could sense Dean didn't care; he never would. Family comes first, no matter what.

Sam remembered how his heart had experienced a painful tugging sensation at that; Dean's unwavering and infinite loyalty to family, his complete and utter trust. Dean held his head high and his arms taut, staring down a being neither of them could dream of defeating.

"Touch him…and you'll die. I'll make sure of that."

Sam almost flinched, knowing this would at best have no effect on their fate, and at worst would enrage her again.

"Please, Dean." She calmly requested, a hint of disapproval and regret in her eyes. "I don't want to harm you. Stand aside."

"Hurt him, and you hurt me." Dean had replied, his head dipped slightly in warning. Sam watched, waited, on baited breath. A twitch of annoyance passed Anna's angelic features.

"Dean, this must be done. Stand aside." Dean allowed a moment of silence to hang between them.

"I don't think you understand." He said slowly and deliberately, his voice lowered in pitch and volume.

Anna looked as though she was preparing another angry retort, or perhaps preparing to simply smite them both, when suddenly Sam saw her face undergo a rapid and dramatic change, as though reacting to words that weren't being spoken. Her annoyance and calm faded; replaced by something that resembled mild panic.

_Panic?_

Sam had studied her intensely, searching for a better explanation. But no, it definitely appeared to have been a flash of mild panic. She had quickly suppressed it, and now something that looked like unease and severe annoyance crossed her face. It was a different look of annoyance than before, Sam noted. She gave a half-hearted smile, an acceptance of defeat that also showed hints of amusement.

"I see." She said, her eyes focussed solely on Dean. For a moment Sam had felt that he was no longer even in the room, despite being the centre of the disagreement.

When she spoke next, Anna was no longer angry, or bored, or irritated. She sounded almost…pleading. Apologetic. Cautious, as though suddenly speaking to Dean was like treading on delicate eggshells.

"Dean, you have to understand…"

"Oh, I understand alright." He cut her off and she fell silent. Sam could see her evaluating the situation in her mind; weighing up options. For some reason, she appeared to come up empty-handed.

"Like I said - you hurt him…" Dean repeated. He paused, for…dramatic effect? "and you're hurting _me_." He emphasised the last word and Sam's brow knitted together in confusion.

She physically took a step backwards, while Dean stood rigid; unwavering. With a look that Sam couldn't decipher, she had vanished in a flutter of wings, leaving both of them alive.

Yes – there was definitely a reason for his creeping sense of unease; Sam _knew_ it. He just couldn't figure out exactly what the reason _was_.

And now it was day ten. Well, technically, very early in the morning of day eleven. He still hadn't figured out why Dean suddenly seemed to inspire fear in the lowly creatures they hunted, or how he had deterred even the vengeful plan of an _angel_. At first he had barely registered it; put it down to luck. Then he noticed, but denied it to himself because that would be too damn _weird_, but after the Anna incident… it couldn't be put down to coincidence. It couldn't be supressed or ignored.

It made his skin crawl, not knowing.

_7.32AM_

"Sammy, you awake?"

Dean's voice slid over him like a ragged blanket, rousing him from sleep. His head felt heavy, his eyelids protested at being forced to open. Sleep clung heavily to his entire body.

"I am _now_." Sam had hissed through gritted teeth. He flicked his eyes lazily to the alarm clock by bed; 7.32AM. He had got approximately 3 and a half hours of sleep.

_Not enough._

He pulled himself into a sitting position, back resting against the head board, letting the sheets fall around his hips and legs. Dean had already jumped into the shower, and was belting out _Nobody's Fault But Mine _in an over-exaggerated manner, complete with a god-awful imitation of the nonsensical wailing vocal parts. Sam grimaced in the direction of the bathroom.

It was unusual for Dean to wake up earlier than Sam at all, never mind this early. Sam worried at the inside of his lip with his teeth; it seemed that anything and everything Dean did now was subconsciously added to Sam's growing list of side-effects… _symptoms_…of this new and unexplainable change.

Dean emerged from the bathroom, still humming the bizarre guitar-vocal mish-mash parts of the song, a towel wrapped around himself. He stopped in front of Sam at a particular part in the song, pointed towards him, and again over-exaggerated the vocals, like he was on stage at a concert and Sam was his adoring audience. Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother, huffed disapprovingly, and made his own way to the bathroom.

_10.04AM_

After showering and grabbing coffee and sandwiches (well, Sam mused, at least _he _had the sense to start the day off on sandwiches. _I mean, blueberry pie for breakfast? Who _does_ that? Urgh_) they loaded themselves into the Impala and headed out.

_To another nameless, faceless town in the middle of nowhere._

It was almost certainly going to be a standard hunt. Sam might even have gone as far as to brand it as easy – a simple demon problem (at least one but at most possibly four, according to the testimony of the panicked girl who had contacted them on John Winchester's cell phone). The demon had taken the body of the frightened student's room-mate, and she strongly suspected that her boyfriend and at least one of his friends had also been…_changed_. They had been travelling around campus causing trouble just for the sake of it, but then it all changed – they began murdering young women.

Even before all _this_ began, Sam might have risked a feeling of optimism before the hunt even began; demons weren't nearly as hard to dispose of as some of the other creatures they encountered. Exorcising the occasional demonic scum was almost like a break for the Winchesters.

Almost.

Now though – Sam chanced a sideways glance at Dean with gritted teeth – he was simply intrigued as to how the situation would play out. Skin walkers and vampires fled in fear; humans with supernatural abilities would apparently rather rot in prison than face it, whatever the hell _it_ was, and even _angels_ retreated.

Sam forced himself to relax his tensed jaw. He kept looking at Dean in his I-hope-this-is-subtle sideways glance, studying his profile. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to whatever mindless radio-station-crap was being pumped out the Impala's speakers, gazing thoughtfully out across the road.

_What are you, Dean? What's…in there?_

"Dean?" Sam chanced, turning his head towards his brother in a mock display of only just acknowledging him. Luckily, Dean didn't seem to realise Sam had been watching him before.

"Mmm?" Dean's eyes flitted to the radio, back to the road. He fiddled with a knob, emitted a satisfied 'ah ha!' when he found a worthy station.

In the wake of Sam's silence, Dean's shoulders tensed. He gently pushed on the knob he had twiddled before, and a blanket of quiet filled the car.

"Sammy…" Dean's voice was low, exasperated. Sam knew he would be met with this reaction. His brother didn't want to discuss it, any of the three previous times Sam had tried to bring it up.

"Come on, Dean." Sam replied, keeping his own voice cautiously lowered and filled with as much patience as he could manage. "You know you're gonna have to explain it to me. Is something wrong? Did something bad happen?"

"No, and no."

_Eyes glued to the road._

Sam pushed more persistently, aware of the line he was treading on but unable to drop the topic yet another time. He continued in a calm tone. "How am I supposed to trust you, if…"

"You don't trust me, Sam?" Dean cut him off, sounding suddenly angry, but also as though he was trying to mask hurt. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you, come on man."

Dean's brow furrowed deeply, and the gaze he had momentarily moved to Sam returned to the stretched expanse of highway.

Sam did trust his brother, with his life. If there was one person he could count on to never betray him, to keep his word, to always just _be there_ – it was Dean.

Which is why this recently-acquired feeling of wariness picked at his brain so uncomfortably, squirmed inside his skull like a parasite.

"Ok. I trust you."

_Four failed attempts._


	2. Chapter 2

**I hope chapter one was sufficient to grab some interest! Here, have some of those flashbacks I was rabbiting on about.**

"_Sam? I think I found something. This book says…" _

"_Hello, Dean."_

Dean turned around mid-sentence, colliding with the chest of an angel in an overcoat. He visibly jumped and let out a surprised yelp that he would deny to his grave, having to hurriedly correct his grip on the beaten, leather-bound book he held so as not to drop it. Castiel stood patiently, unwavering, waiting for Dean to regain his composure.

"_God dammit, Cas!" Dean hissed, blinking the last remnants of fear-induced adrenaline away. Castiel had the nerve to glance at Sam with his brow slightly knitted together, as though asking for an explanation of Dean's strange reaction._

"_Don't look at him like that, you…" Castiel tilted his head minutely to the right. _

_God dammit. It was like being angry with a dog. Impossible._

"_Just…don't _sneak up_ on me like that, man. Ok?"_

_Castiel nodded. _

"_My apologies."  
_

* * *

"_Castiel, uh…if you can hear us…we really need your help here, man."_

Sam opened one eye, peered across the room at the other two hunters. Dean napped, sitting in a wooden chair at the kitchen table with his head on his folded arms.

_Bobby had his nose buried in a stack of ancient parchments, sifting through them delicately and one by one. The search had been fruitless so far; no answer to what the hell was causing so many different variations of mass-destruction in the nearby towns. None of them wanted to believe it, but…the rolling blackouts, the deaths of first-born sons, the water supply of three towns turning to blood?_

_Biblical. Sam had shuddered. Biblical meant…_angelic_._

"_Cas? Please? You gotta know what's causing this. Just throw us a bone here."_

Dean snorted from across the room, raising his head groggily and almost knocking over the beer bottle at his elbow that he had finished before nodding off. He fumbled with it and moved it away from himself, before rubbing the sleeve of his right arm over the sleeve of his left arm in a poor attempt to banish a small puddle of drool. Sam rolled his eyes.

"_Any progress?" Dean asked, his head inclined in Bobby's direction. The older hunter let out an aggravated sigh and sat down the parchment he had been holding, leaning back in his chair. _

"_Squat. Sam?"_

Sam mirrored Bobby's sigh in response, not even bothering to lift his head.

"_Ok Sam, let's say you're right…that this is…" Dean paused, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "…biblical. I mean, that it's got something to do with the guys upstairs. Which I doubt, by the way…"_

"_Dean." Bobby said in a warning tone._

"_Alright, alright. If it _does _have its roots up there, we should call Cas. He might know what to do, after_ _he reassures us that this has _nothing to do _with angels."_

"_I just tried calling him." Sam replied to his brother. "He didn't seem to wanna pick up."_

_Dean stayed quiet for a few seconds, looking pensive. He turned his back on his brother and bowed his head. _

"_Castiel, we humbly ask you to grace us with your presence in this time of uh…need. Cause y'know, we're kinda running on empty here. And if it turns out you feathery assholes are the ones going round…" _

"_We have nothing to do with this."_

_The gravelly voice came from immediately behind the hunter, so close he felt the angel's breath on the back of his neck. As usual, before he could stop himself, Dean jumped before turning around to face Castiel. It continued to bother Dean that despite experiencing the angel's frightening and sudden tendency to appear out of thin air several god-damn times, he still jumped at every appearance. _

_Add to that the fact that the guy had a totally non-existent understanding of the need for personal space, and you had a guaranteed recipe for social awkwardness._

"_Ok, well that's something?" Dean looked towards the other two for a sign that they agreed with him. "So Cas, if it's not you guys, who's bringing…."_

"Wait a second." Sam interrupted. The angel turned to face Sam, Dean leaning to the right to peer around his shoulders at his brother. Bobby looked indifferent.

"Cas…I prayed to you five minutes ago!"

"Yes."

Silence.

"…_and…usually when we pray to you, you answer if you're not busy. But you didn't answer."_

"No, I didn't."

Seriously, how is it possible to be this socially awkward and not even care?

"_But you just answered Dean." Sam looked increasingly frustrated, and Dean would have found it infinitely more amusing if he wasn't himself feeling curious. Even Bobby raised his head in their direction, feeling this amusing faux-pas unfolding before him would be a quaint break from his studies._

"_Dean and I," Castiel paused, seemingly choosing his words with care. "share a more profound bond."_

_Sam looked positively offended. _

_Dean looked at the angel with discomfort undoubtedly plain to see in his features, but he couldn't hold back the self-satisfied grin that took hold of his mouth when he saw Sam with that look of annoyance plastered across his face. He smirked smugly at his brother, who began to sulk as they filled in Cas on the details._

* * *

_Day 12 – 11.14PM_

"I don't know, Jo." Sam sighed into the phone, raking a tired hand through his limp hair and sweeping it away from his eyes. "He acts like he's fine, he eats and hunts and talks…kinda." He paused again, sifting through his thoughts. "But he's…different."

Sam paused, listening to Jo's insights. If he had wanted to, Castiel could have moved effortlessly between the motel room where he currently stood, secretly watching an oblivious Sam from the darkness, and the café where Jo was eating a ham and cheese omelette five states over. He could have watched and listened to both sides of their conversation, but he was too intent on studying Sam's mannerisms; the tone in his voice and the crease to his brow that bordered on miserable. It pained him to see the younger Winchester so worried over his brother without knowing the cause. He felt his own face contort almost imperceptibly as he listened to the man's pained voice.

"He's my brother, Jo." Sam said, the weight behind the simple statement saying so much more than it actually did; more than a thousand words could. "I just…can't stand the thought that something is going on and he can't talk to me about it. He seems normal, but what if…if he's faking it? If he's hiding something?"

Castiel listened carefully, and heard Jo on the other end of the line say something about hex bags and crossroads near any town they had recently visited. Sam sighed again, exhaustion evident.

"I only noticed the change on our next hunt – by that time we had left the town. I don't _think_there were any crossroads…at least I can't remember any. I don't think he would make another deal, Jo…"

Castiel silently exited the motel room with Sam none the wiser to his presence. He felt a curious sense of unease creeping through him, gnawing away on the inside. He would later come to identify this emotion, through help from Dean, as guilt.

* * *

_Dean frowned, flicking incessantly between pages of the same book he had been looking through two hours ago, convinced he must have missed something. A frustrated sigh from Sam across the table indicated that he, too, was on a similar wavelength. _

"_It's very complex…" a rough voice cut through the silence and Dean's concentration. He attempted to ignore Castiel, brushing off his rambling with a curt mumble. _

"_If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter…"_

Both Winchesters were instantly alert.

"…_why does he keep slapping her rear? Perhaps she has done something wrong."_

_Dean shot a quick glance at Sam, who instantly dipped his head and returned his eyes to the papers before him with a 'hell no, you're taking this one' edge of awkwardness. Dean silently cursed him._

"_You're watching porn? Why?"_

"_It was there." _

_Dean felt hot embarrassment crawl up his neck. It was even more irritating that Castiel felt no shame in what he was doing, and Dean felt oddly envious of his obliviousness to awkward situations._

"_You don't watch porn…in a room full of dudes. And you don't talk about it! Just…turn it off." _

_Castiel remained somewhat ambivalent to Dean's scolding, continuing to study what was happening on the screen. After a few seconds of silence, Dean watched in horror as Castiel's eyes dipped towards his own crotch._

"_Now he's got a boner." He stated irately. Sam looked at him as though this was one particular statement he could have gone without uttering aloud._

"_Yes, Dean, thanks for sharing." Sam returned his eyes to the book. "Are you going to help him take care of that, too?"_

_Dean made an aghast and disgusted noise at the back of his throat, struggling to come up with a witty insult but finding that words failed him. He was eternally grateful for the doorbell providing a much needed distraction._

* * *

"_Cas…?" Dean's brow furrowed when his eyes fell on the angel, sitting at the foot of one of the beds in the motel room he and Sam were sharing. He appeared to be watching something on television, and looked deeply confused. He didn't react when Dean entered the room. _

"_What are you doing here? Have you been here all day?" _

"_I do not understand…what is the purpose of this?"_

_Dean huffed a sigh of disapproval at the angel brushing him off, so decided to do the same and ignore Castiel's question. He dropped his bag on the bed Castiel was not sitting on, taking his jacket off and throwing it beside the bag. _

_Then he heard the sounds. _

_From Castiel's direction, the sound of a low, masculine voice huffing and panting and_…moaning.

Oh God, no…

_Dean slowly turned on his heel, knowing the sight he was going to be met with but hoping all the same that it would somehow vanish before he turned around. Castiel, still perched on the edge of the other bed, was once again watching cheap pornography on the motel room TV. Dean instantly felt an embarrassed blush creep up his neck, deepening intensely when he actually focussed on the image on the screen. Two men writhed together on a carpeted floor, both shirtless and with one attempting to remove the underwear of the other, while they kissed furiously and rutted against each other. _

"_Cas!" Dean uttered louder than he intended to. "You…what are you doing!"_

_Castiel didn't turn to acknowledge Dean's horror. He answered nonchalantly while still watching the events on the TV unfold._

"_I'm watching…" he paused, tilting his head at an angle to see a better view of a rather challenging position now being undertaken by the men on screen. He seemed to be considering what Dean had said the last time. "…porn, you called it."_

"Yes, Cas…porn." Dean squeezed the bridge of his nose. "But that's…gay porn."

"_Gay?"_

"Yes, Cas…as in, two men…no women…why are you watching that!"

"_I did notice that difference, yes. It appears there are a variety of subject matters and gender-mixed possibilities in 'porn'…it's very complex."_

"_Yeah, you said that last time. And last time, I told you not to watch it."_

"You told me not to watch it in a room full of 'dudes'." Castiel continued to watch the screen. Dean's face flushed hotter, averting his eyes from the now furious slapping of skin on skin coming from the screen. He could still hear the noises. "I was alone when I began watching this." Castiel wasn't attempting to find loop-holes to irritate Dean – he knew this – he was simply stating the truth, and that's what annoyed Dean most.

"_Well…you're not alone anymore, Cas. So please…turn it off." The angel frowned at the television as one man dropped to his knees and took the erection of the second man into his mouth, then began bobbing his head back and forth vigorously. The receiving party threw his head back and moaned enthusiastically (too enthusiastically, Dean thought – that just wasn't believable acting). Hands gripped hair and pulled tightly, guttural moans and whines escaped from lips contorted in ecstasy. The first man took his own erection in his hands and began stroking himself in time to the rhythm he had established with his mouth on his partner's cock._

_Dean was irritated that Castiel was ignoring him and not switching off the TV, when it suddenly dawned on him that he had been watching the angel for the past 2 minutes, not the television. He was about to tear his eyes away when Castiel's hand curiously trailed to his own crotch. Dean's eyes tracked the movement, and even though the angel was facing the television, away from him, and was paying him no mind at all, Dean began to feel incredibly nervous. It almost felt as though Castiel would catch him looking and be appalled, despite the fact Dean knew he felt no human awkwardness. He told himself to look away, to look at literally anything else in the room, but the sight was strangely captivating. He knew by the way he moved that Castiel had never done this before, and would probably never have thought to do it had he not encountered pornography. He stroked one finger tentatively over the slight bulge in his suit-pants, and continued to repeat this cautious movement, very slowly._

"_So…what is the purpose of men having intercourse, with no women? I understand that humans choose to engage in sex for purposes other than procreation, but I am unfamiliar with…"_

"Cas!" Dean cut him off, irritated and still more than a little embarrassed. He was not about to attempt to explain sex and other intricate details of homosexual encounters (which he knew little about, thank you very much) to a clueless celestial being. Castiel stopped the slow-motion one-fingered stroking of his crotch and turned his head in Dean's direction, capturing his gaze.

_Dean could tell the angel was simply waiting for an explanation as to why he had been silenced – after all, Dean would want an explanation if someone ranted at him when he was mid-way through a question. But for some reason, the thought of explaining this to Castiel was terrifying to him. His eyes shot to the hand that still rested, although immobile, on Cas' pants. _

"_Can you just...yknow…stop touching yourself, please?" He awkwardly shifted his eyes away. Castiel looked at his own hand, apparently confused as to why he was receiving a scolding for doing what he had been doing. He obediently lowered the hand anyway, and returned his eyes back to Dean as though waiting on further commands, or the answer to his questions. _

_Dean felt his eyes being held by the angel's; it was powerful and unnerving, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. They awkwardly held eye contact, Castiel perched on a bed and Dean standing facing him, for what Dean would have counted as 20 full seconds. The soundtrack of masculine yelps and sweat-slicked bodies crashing together and shouted ecstatic profanities was the only noise to break the silence. Dean suddenly realised this. _

"_Please, turn off the porn." He uttered feebly. Castiel complied, switching the television off completely. He turned his head to Dean once more, as though waiting on instructions again. It made Dean distinctly uncomfortable. _

"_Uh…"_

_He felt himself almost having to fight to pull his eyes away from those piercing blue ones, an air of something dangerous swimming beneath their surface. They bore into the hunter with more intensity than he had ever felt from the angel before, and it scared him. He felt a peculiar twitch in his stomach. _

"_Yes, Dean?"_

The sudden words made him jump, lost in his thoughts as he was. Now he found his eyes drawn to the angel's mouth, gaze roaming over the lips that uttered his name.

"…_Don't tell Sam about this." Was what came out when he finally decided to speak. He gestured weakly at the bed the angel sat on, and in the general direction of the TV, before walking briskly into the bathroom to have the shower he had intended to have in the first place. When he emerged from the bathroom, there was no sign to indicate any angelic presence had ever been in the hotel room._


	3. Chapter 3

**I hope you guys are enjoying it so far. It's come to my attention that for some reason, the site has preserved italics in some paragraphs and not in others. I only noticed this a few minutes ago when I viewed 'live preview' of chapter 2 - I'm really annoyed about it, and it's understandable if you might be too, it just makes everything look messy. I'm going to take extra time correcting all future documents once uploaded. I don't know why the site would save some italics and not others, it's just put me in a bit of a pissy mood now. Anyway, I hope everything in this chapter is preserved correctly...**

_Day 8 – 11.50PM_  
_  
"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded from his side of the room. With a sideways glace in the dark, it looked to Dean as though Sam was lying awake on his back with his arms behind his head._

"_Yeah?"_

_"Don't take this the wrong way, or anything…but…"_

_Dean felt his breath catch in his chest. He knew Sam would have brought up the 'change' eventually. God, it was only about a week. Did it have to be_

_ now?_

_"…that thing with Anna last night." Sam chanced. Dean felt his eyes close in desperation._

_"What about it? Bitch doesn't know what she's talking about. We both know you'd never go back to…y'know, that."_

_"Not the demon thing, Dean…" Sam cast his eyes in the direction of his brother's bed, while still remaining stock-still. "The other things…The things we hunt, they just avoid you. They seem…scared of you. Is there anything…y'know…different?"_

_Dean's stomach lurched. He knew Sam would ask eventually, but that didn't mean he had to answer._

_"It's probably just a coincidence."_

_"It's not. We both know that." His harsh and blunt tone made Dean's stomach sink even lower._

_"You have nothing to worry about, Sam. Everything's fine." Dean turned his back on his brother, a signal that he was done and was going to sleep._

_"I just want you to…"_

_"Sleep, Sam."_

_Sam retreated at being cut off so sharply, and sank into his mattress with a lead weight in his gut. He wondered how many more failed attempts he would have at prying answers out of Dean…if he ever managed to get those answers at all._

_._

* * *

.

_Day 14 – 2.06PM_

"So some chick has been seducing guys around here, then…ripping off their heads. Shocking. But, uh…she's apparently been dead for 6 years?" Dean shook his head in disbelief, going over the facts Bobby had tipped them off with. Sam shrugged in the passenger seat beside him.

"Well we can assume Bobby is probably working on the case too." Sam replied after his irate shrug. "One of us is bound to find something."

The drive to the town was, to Dean's ever-growing irritation, fraught with awkward silence. Sam thought Dean didn't notice the frequent sideways-glances he kept sending his way; Sam was never very good at subtlety.

"Are you aiming for five now?" Dean asked, breaking the silence without taking his eyes from the road. They were approximately 20 minutes from the town. Sam seemed startled at Dean suddenly speaking.

"Five what?"

"Attempts at asking me what's 'wrong' with me." Sam visibly shifted uncomfortably in his seat, realising he had been caught out watching Dean.

"Sorry." A small apology was all he could think to say. The remaining 20 minutes was driven in silence.

.

* * *

.

They walked towards the latest motel room, discussing the details of the dead-chick-apparently-back-from-the-dead case. The awkward car ride was pushed away for the time being, both brothers glad for a distraction.

"We should consider skinwalkers and shapeshifters, but she could also be some sort of siren, right?" Sam asked while pacing towards the door with his duffel. Dean nodded in agreement, before a gust of wind and the sound of beating wings filled the space directly behind them. Both Winchesters turned on their heel to see who the newcomer was, and were relatively unsurprised to be met with the ever-steely gaze of a trench-coat wearing angel.

"Cas?" Sam sounded puzzled. "We don't need your help in this case. Is everything ok?"

Castiel glanced at Dean, as though looking for direction. They exchanged a glance that lasted no more than 2 seconds, before Dean turned to his puzzled brother.

"Go ahead Sam, I got this."

"Right…" Sam cast his suspicious eyes between the two, before entering the motel room and clicking the door shut behind him.

"Is everything ok?" Dean asked as soon as he was sure Sam was out of earshot.

"Sam didn't necessarily have to be sent away, Dean." Castiel replied. "I have news for both of you. I have reason to believe forces in Heaven are plotting something against you."

"Plotting something?" Dean's eyebrows hitched incredulously. "What is this, the dark ages?"

"They need you to see the importance of accepting your roles as Michael and Lucifer's vessels, and I think they have something specific planned to convince you. Something is wrong, Dean. I can feel it." Castiel paused, his eyes penetrating Dean in the way that made him feel almost naked; stripped of not only his clothes, but his skin and muscle and entire body – reduced to only the raw power of his soul. He still had to suppress a shudder when the angel looked at him that way.

Castiel's eyes nervously flitted between Dean's still, calm green ones. They swam with nervousness, which was always unnerving in a being so powerful.

Dean cupped Castiel's face in his hands, rubbing one thumb reassuringly across his left cheek.

"Hey." He spoke softly, bringing their faces slightly closer together. "Chill. Everything will be fine. It always is." Castiel looked unconvinced, but much calmer now that Dean's hands were resting on him, steadying him.

"Let's just worry about things as they come." Dean added. "Plus, you know how I hate to see you panicking. It doesn't look right on an angel." He dipped his head to find Castiel's eyes, having retreated to the ground, and searched them. Castiel raised his head again.

"Very well, Dean." He stated, his voice back to the non-committed, calm tone he usually sported. His face was smoothed out again, the worry lines near his eyes had vanished for now and he looked at ease. Dean smiled, and kissed him once on the cheek. Castiel released a contented breath, and a smile edged his lips without fully forming. Dean relished the little half-smiles; mostly, they were the closest he got to seeing genuine positive emotion on the angel's face. He smiled wider in return, compensating for both of them. Castiel vanished from between his palms in a gust of warm air and that familiar sound of feathers.

Dean let his hands descend from their cupping-shape in the air, and turned to walk to the motel room.

.

* * *

_._

_Dean planted his palms firmly against the cool tiled wall as the hot water washed over him. Their latest problem was little more than an irate ghost, clinging to her old home and terrifying the new owners. She never bothered to hurt them, though…although the same couldn't be said for the women her newly-single husband went around screwing. Just as she had seemed to be working her way towards him, Dean and Sam had managed to banish her spirit._

Shame_,_ _Dean thought. Bastard who fucks half the town 2 weeks after his wife dies deserved all he had coming to him._

_Unfortunately, being angrily thrown across the room and into a dresser was not on Dean's itinerary. He rubbed his pulled shoulder roughly, trying to massage the muscle into relaxation. The hot water dribbled off him with a pink sheen, stinging the mild scrapes on his back. He stood for a while, not attempting to wash yet, just basking in the heat and steam. _

_Grabbing the block of complimentary soap, he worked up a lather in his hair before starting on his body. A thought crossed his mind; Sam would be getting their burgers for about 20 minutes, and even when he returned he was hardly going to come into the bathroom to give Dean his share of the meal. He had time. _

_It wasn't like he indulged himself all that often, really – usually he could find a willing woman wherever they happened to settle down for a few days. The same fabricated stories usually worked for him - about how his heart had been recently torn to shreds by his high-school sweetheart, or how his little brother was the only person in the world he would risk his life for - he loved that kid more than anything, valued Sam more than he valued his own life. _

_Ok, so maybe they weren't all entirely lies, but Sammy would hardly object to helping Dean get laid, would he?_

_He closed his eyes and frowned. _No women for…_He counted mentally. _2 months.

God, that long?

_He deserved a little self-indulgence now and then. _

_Working up a thick and soapy lather on his right hand, Dean lazily stroked himself while he worked the remaining soap out of his hair with the left. Casually and noncommittally, like he had all the time in the world, he continued to stroke with one hand while trying not to get distracted by the way the soap stung the scratches on his back. _

_Son of a bitch, it stung._

Focus, Dean.

_He gritted his teeth; you knew you were wound up way too tightly when you couldn't even focus on jerking yourself off in the shower. _

_With more determination to concentrate, Dean turned sideways to face the wall again, so the water caught his right shoulder instead of his entire back. He pressed his left forearm against the tiles and rested his forehead against it, using his right hand to continue its southbound ministrations._

_As he stood at an angle, resting against the tiles, Dean felt the stress beginning to ease off. Like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders with every languid stroke of his erection, he finally began to feel the stress being replaced by pleasurable jolts. He exhaled deeply at an unexpected spasm that was stronger than the rest, curling inside him like a threatening beast, waiting._

_Now that he was into a rhythm and felt distinctly more relaxed, Dean picked up the pace. He pumped his right hand, balled into a fist, faster over his cock, squeezing harder on the downward stroke and twisting his wrist slightly on the upstroke. The soap allowed his hand to slip almost elegantly over his own skin, and when added to the sensation of the water running hot and steady over him, he allowed himself to let out another breathy sigh. _

_At first it was more about relaxation, but Dean hadn't had what he would call a particularly satisfying orgasm in quite a while. Even with his last couple of sexual partners, he would have considered the sex simply average; just something to get him relaxed and temporarily sated, but not particularly special. He felt himself rise onto the peak of orgasm and suddenly stopped moving, staving it off deliberately. _

_He had tried this a few times, but had quickly gotten bored of the whole stop-start-stop-start thing and given in almost immediately. Instant gratification always won out in the end. _

_However now, in the comfort of a shabby motel shower that was rapidly over-clouding with steam, he felt he deserved some sort of quality Dean-time. He listened – no sounds of his moose-like brother gallivanting around the room just yet. He had some time. _

_He allowed himself to calm down and retreat from the brink, without losing his hardness, before he began stroking enthusiastically again. This time he felt himself almost careering over the edge much sooner than before, and released himself before he could come. He watched his cock spring free from his grip and waited, patiently riding out what could almost be described as a half-orgasm. Little flickers of electricity buzzed under the surface of his skin, his body growing frustrated but at the same time piqued with curious anticipation. _

_A third time he started stroking himself, cautiously at first until he was sure he wasn't going to come instantly. He trained his mind, regaining control, before speeding up slightly. Every stroke felt electric now; every brush of his hand slid with ease and felt as though he was pricking a thousand nerve-endings. His breathing became rough and erratic; loud, even. Dean barely tried to suppress the pleased moan that escaped his lips when he allowed his thumb to slip over the head of his throbbing cock. He could come around to this idea of teasing himself, he thought. _

_He let his thumb slide over the head more often, his nerves crying out for release. He held it off for as long as possible, fighting his body's urge to come. Something akin to a groan mixed with a shout escaped his lips as he felt the first warm dagger shoot through him, followed by an almost overwhelming feeling of bliss and lust and ecstasy. His entire body pounded with his release, and the waves kept rolling off him. Another low groan escaped his mouth, followed by an almost pained-sounding growl as he gave a couple more strokes to his over-sensitive skin. He stilled, allowing himself to come down from the high._

_Dean opened his eyes without realising they had ever closed. The bathroom tiles were thoroughly covered in the aftermath of his spectacular orgasm, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He sighed, content with himself, and shut the water off. _

_As Dean opened the shower curtain and stepped out onto the floor, feeling his muscles go warm and sated, he was distinctly aware of something being different about the bathroom than when he had stepped into the shower. Ignoring the mildly unpleasant feeling of the cold air wrapping around his damp, hot skin, Dean stood bolt upright and turned stiffly to his right, realisation dawning on him. _

_In the corner of the bathroom, and looking like someone had just stabbed him in the skull with an angel-banishing blade, stood an angel in a ridiculous trench coat with those familiar blue eyes blown wide as saucers. Dean would never have thought it possible, but he actually looked awkward for once in his existence. Dean froze for a good few seconds, as did Castiel, eyes locked on each other in wide panic and embarrassment. _

_Instinctively, Dean reached for a towel and covered his modesty with it. _

"_Cas? Seriously, what the…what are you doing in our bathroom?"_

_Castiel stood in silence for a moment, attempting to force his eyes back to their normal appearance and failing. _

"_I…came to speak to you about… I noticed you got hurt earlier, I was going to offer to heal your…" _

_The fact that Castiel – the messenger of God who rarely showed emotion, never 'got' social cues and never felt awkward – was now stumbling over his words like an embarrassed human made Dean flinch inside himself. He wanted to ask how long Castiel had been in the bathroom, and why he didn't leave if he clearly knew that what was happening was something private (he did have the sense to look embarrassed, after all), but Dean knew it was a useless question. Castiel had been here the entire time, and they both knew it. _

"_I should…probably go…" _

"_That would be a good idea." Dean replied, thankful that the burning red of his cheeks could be blamed on the steam in the room. _

…_or the fact he had just spent fifteen minutes furiously masturbating._

_The blush crept further up his face and deepened._

_Castiel made no move to transport himself away from this hideous situation. He stood, eyes falsely studying the shower curtain and the tiles, unsure of what to do. His hair had grown damp with the excessive steam in the room, and clung to his forehead in little clumps. The more Dean looked, the more he began to wonder if it was steam or sweat that mussed the angel's appearance. His face did appear flushed and sheened in a thin layer of dampness…it almost gave the impression he had been undertaking some strenuous activity, or that he was too warm in that coat…_

_Horrified and suddenly overcome with the ridiculous notion that Castiel might be able to read - and misinterpret - his wayward thoughts, Dean dropped his gaze. Unfortunately, his eyes landed on another part of the man's vessel, which was clearly standing to attention and pushing insistently against the restricting material of his slacks. Dean felt his eyes widen in shock all over again, and his eyes swiftly returned to the face of the angel before him, silently begging for an alternative explanation. He was offered nothing._

_Castiel tore his frighteningly blue eyes away from Dean's humiliated face, and finally vanished. _

_Dean stood alone in the bathroom once again, a heavy sense of dread settling on his shoulders. The front door beyond the bathroom wall opened, and he heard Sam lumber inside._


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh Castiel, intruding on Dean's private time? Naughty naughty! **

**To the reviewer who said they were unsure about the last section, the entire bathroom scene was all a flashback. It should have appeared in italics to help convey this, and the fact that it was an uncomfortable and awkward moment should have indicated that it was before anything 'happened' between them. I really appreciate your review, there are so few for the amount of people adding the story to their favourites and alerts. It's kind of bizarre, so I owe the handful of actual reviewers extra thanks. I hope you stick with me.**

_._

* * *

_._

_shitshitshitshitshitSHIT._

_Dean pressed his closed fist against his forehead, his eyes screwed shut. He lay on his back in the motel bed, wide awake and staring at the ceiling for the past 3 hours. Thankfully, Sam had fallen asleep at around midnight, completely oblivious to Dean's alert state and internal mental struggle. He chanced a look at his brother, and unsurprisingly found him sprawled at a ridiculous angle across the too-small bed, his limbs looking comical in their jostle for space. Dean heaved a sigh – Sam looked so peaceful in his sleep._

_He wished he could feel that peace…or just get to sleep at all._

_Okay…let's rewind and look at the basics. _

_You caught a clueless angel watching porn a couple of times. No big deal. He doesn't know the first thing about what counts as 'socially unacceptable'._

_He accidentally appeared in the bathroom while you masturbated…a little bit more of an awkward deal, but…surely he knows dudes have needs, right?_

_And he accidentally forgot to leave. He was accidentally still standing there when you got out of the shower. And he was accidentally and very visibly turned on._

_Fuck_.

_Come to think of it… _

_Dean's mind took on an unpleasant train of thought. He always appears just a little too close for comfort. He always looks just a little too long. And it always seems like his eyes want to look _through_ him._

_Dean felt himself exhale in frustration against his will, and glanced sideways to make sure he didn't wake Sam. Luckily, his gangly brother stayed blissfully unaware and sound asleep. _

"_God dammit, Cas…" Dean whispered into the darkness, rubbing his palms over his eyes._

"_Dean."_

_The voice cut through the night air like a knife, startling Dean into sitting bolt upright on his bed, pulling his hands away from his eyes at lightning speed. His eyes located Castiel immediately, standing at the wall opposite the foot of the bed. After the initial shock subsided, Dean realised this was the first time Castiel had ever appeared with some form of acceptable distance between their bodies. The thought made him shift uncomfortably._

"_Cas, what the hell are you doing?" He hissed at the angel, sparing a sideways glace at his sleeping brother mid-way through the scolding. "Sam is asleep! It's 3 in the morning!"_

"_Sam will not wake up." Castiel stated matter-of-factly in a voice of normal volume. Dean noticed the angel was standing with his hands clasped in front of him and his gaze flitting nervously between Dean and some random spots on the floor, like a naughty child receiving a punishment. He felt his scalp prickle with some unidentifiable feeling. "He's sleeping very, very deeply."_

_"Right…" Dean felt uncomfortable using a voice that seemed so loud in the silence of 3AM, but he trusted that Cas had the ability to keep Sam asleep and oblivious to anything that was about to be said. The realisation of what might be said crept into the front of his mind, and Dean felt slightly sick._

_"What are you doing here, Cas?" He asked, exasperated, taking the angel's silence as a sign that he had once again chosen an inopportune time to experience a flood of un-angelic awkwardness._

_"You called me." He said, sounding confused and almost wary, studying Dean from all the way across the room in the darkness. Dean's eyebrows hitched incredulously in response._

_"I…" Dean stopped mid-way through his disagreement, realising that he had in fact uttered Castiel's name. "Yeah, I guess I did." He felt a blush creep up his neck._

"_Are we going to discuss what happened earlier?" Castiel finally broached the subject. "I sensed that it made you uncomfortable."_

_"Me?" Dean raised his voice. "Your eyes shifted everywhere, you looked like a lost kitten. I've never seen more discomfort from another dude in my life."_

_Castiel watched him wordlessly for a few seconds. "It is true that I was…unsure of how to react, at first."_

_Dean's mind unwittingly jumped to the memory of Castiel's strained suit pants shortly before he vanished. He swiftly pushed the memory away, horrified that it had even surfaced, as Cas continued to speak._

_"I thought I should come here and apologise to you." He stated plainly. "My intentions were pure. I never intended to catch you in a moment of…indulgence."_

_Dean felt his insides cringe with embarrassment._

_"Please, Cas…" He cut the angel off, feeling the need to just stop him from digging them a deeper hole. "Just stop. Forget it, it's nothing."_

_Castiel stood silently for a moment, his eyes no longer nervously flitting around the room. He had them trained directly on Dean, and intensely focussed._

_"Yes, nothing." He repeated, watching Dean's face. Dean was unsure what he was searching for, but his face must not have given him the answer, as Castiel's eyes dipped lower and boldly traced the edges of his collarbone before quickly skimming his chest and stomach. It appeared as though he was trying to look without being caught, although Dean was already watching him, and he knew this._

_After a brief visual scan of Dean's torso, Castiel's eyes flitted to the floor. Once again, the unnerving and very human awkward air had returned to his mannerisms. He looked to be considering something for a brief moment; perhaps having an internal struggle of some sort. Just as Dean was about to ask if he was alright, the angel's eyes fell back on his face, and his demeanour returned to normal. Normal, emotionless, methodical Castiel._

_Dean felt hollow; no particular emotion accompanied what his eyes were witnessing, although he felt like he should be feeling __something. He just watched Cas…check him out? And now he was acting as though he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary._

_"My offer still stands." Cas said clearly, no trace of nervousness in his voice anymore. Dean frowned, puzzled. "About your wounds." Cas reaffirmed. Come to think of it, they did still sting. Maybe that's the reason he couldn't sleep._

Yeah, the cuts on your back. That's totally it._ Dean's subconscious mocked him sarcastically. _

"_They do still hurt." Dean mumbled into the darkness, feeling as though he had to justify having Castiel come near him. There was a logical reason to let the angel approach him after their little faux-pas, no big deal. _

_Without another word, Castiel disappeared. Before a frown could even make itself present on Dean's brow, he felt the air around him and the bed beneath him both shift. The angel reappeared directly behind him, kneeling at his back. Dean couldn't help but stiffen minutely, then cursed himself for it. He knew Cas would pick up on it and would probably start to feel uncomfortable again. _

_Why the hell isn't he doing it yet?_

_Dean craned his neck to the side, although not all the way round at the angel who knelt behind him._

"_You alright there, man?" He asked as casually as he could, speaking more to the bed than to Castiel. He kept the angel solely in his peripheral vision. _

"_Yes, Dean. Sorry." Castiel murmured, as though being pulled from a trance. He gently lay his left hand over the scrapes on Dean's left shoulder, and it felt like a comforting gesture from a friend. _

_Dean felt his eyes close as the sensation took over him. It was warming and cool simultaneously, and he didn't think he would ever grow fully accustomed to the strange juxtaposition of sensations. Angelic healing had become one of the only things he still counted as 'strange'. _

_His left shoulder had taken the worst of the scrapes. His right shoulder had remained relatively untouched, but superficial scratches that stung like annoying paper cuts littered the main expanse of his back. They would heal on their own with no trouble at all, and both of them knew this. _

_Still, Dean didn't stop Castiel from trailing his hand from his left shoulder to the space between his shoulder blades. He felt the tingling spread to this new area, as expected. He mentally followed the movement of Castiel's hand as it sank lower, touching every inch of his spine and bringing the tingling feeling with it. He felt the angel's hand moving around to the left side of his rib cage, where it stopped. _

_Dean became distinctly aware of this pause in motion, then registered that there was no more healing sensation. Cas was kneeling behind him, with his hand placed…almost _tenderly_…on his ribs. His ribs, right below his chest; right below his nipple…above his waist…_

_Suddenly Dean became uncomfortably aware of his entire body as a canvas of possible areas to be touched. He unwittingly stiffened again, his body being overcome by a creeping sense of wariness. _

"_Cas?" He asked, almost straining to keep calm in his tone._

_Without answering, the angel's hand dipped lower, skimming Dean's waist and settling gently on his hip. This touch, so feather-light and almost intimate in nature…it scared him._

"_What are you doing?" Dean detected none of the fear, anger or confusion that should be in his voice. It was as though he had been replaced mentally by someone else, who was speaking the words he wanted to say with none of the emotion. _

_Dean jolted when he felt Castiel's other hand land on the flat of his back, and the healing sensation returned to that area. His left hand did not leave the hunter's hip. Dean sat incredibly still, feeling like he was watching this strange sequence of events from somewhere else entirely. _

_Something tickled the back of his neck, and it took Dean a few moments to attribute the sensation to Castiel's soft breathing._

_Dean felt his head rise up and his neck stiffen in response, but he still didn't leap off the bed or pull away. _

_Something in his mind screamed out in protest. The way the angel held him was mildly reminiscent of the way Dean had grasped the hip of many-a-female in his life, and the thought almost angered him. He was not about to be treated like a fucking chick_.

_The cooling touch of the healing suddenly ceased on his back, and he knew with the withdrawal of Castiel's hand that no more scratches or cuts were present. No sooner had the right hand left Dean's back, he felt the disappearance of the soft breathing at the nape of his neck, and the gentle hold on his hip evaporated. _

_The sound of beating wings filled the air, and Dean whipped around to face the back of the wall. He looked down at the spot where his hand had landed for support. The sheets bunched around his splayed fingers, and he felt the distinct warmth of body heat. _

_He felt himself exhale deeply, and Sam began to stir in his bed._

_"Dean, you better not be jerking off over there. I'm trying to sleep, man."_

.

* * *

.

_Day 14 – 2.11PM_

"So, let me get this straight…" Sam trailed off, looking confused as he worked something over in his mind. Dean sat on an armchair in the motel, facing him.

"Castiel told you that he thinks Heaven's up to something…something involving both of us, and the apocalypse…and he could only talk to you about it?"

Dean knew this was going to happen. His brother wasn't an idiot. His little conversation in the parking lot with Castiel moments ago had been nothing more than a small exchange of words about the angel's suspicions. But Dean had comforted him, touched him, _kissed_ him…

"Uh, yeah. He said he was worried about you and Lucifer more than he was about me and Michael. He was just worried about making you mad, I guess. He didn't go into too much detail."

Sam stared at Dean almost mournfully, an air of exasperation creeping across his features. When he sighed, Dean felt his chest tighten.

"I'm not an idiot, Dean. I don't know what you're keeping secret from me, but now it's obvious Cas knows what it is too. If you can't talk to me, that's just fine. But don't treat me like I'm stupid."

Sam got up off the edge of the bed he had been sitting on and stalked to the door. He didn't say where he was going or how long he would be away, but Dean had the car keys. He heard Sam's angry footfalls quieten as he put distance between himself and his brother.

.

* * *

.

_Day 16 – 4.12AM_

Dean stood in Bobby's bathroom, the dim light making his face appear all the more drained and gaunt. His skin darkened under the eyes, his cheeks were pale and his lips dry.

Castiel had warned him that Heaven had something planned - something to jump-start the Winchesters' decisions to sign themselves over to be angel puppets. Yesterday – just one day after Castiel delivered the panicky warning to Dean in a motel parking lot – Dean had found himself transported to the year 2014.

The ravaged streets. The camp. _Sam_…

The dead, the dying, and the fact that Dean of 2014 had been seemingly unable to distinguish between the two.

And _Cas_…

Dean rolled the thought around in his head. Was it possible that Zachariah and the other Heavenly-powers-that-be _knew_ what seeing the future Castiel would do to Dean?

It was a given that seeing his brother in the grip of the Devil would rouse some strong emotions, but…it seemed too coincidental. Two weeks after certain _things_ came to light between himself and Castiel, said angel was shown to him in the form of a ruined, drug-addled husk of a creature. No sooner had Dean and Castiel confirmed their _bond_, and Heaven bombarded Dean with the image of the angel void of all power, destined to live the rest of his life as a miserable and fragile human - all of which was directly attributed to Dean's actions.

That it was Dean's decisions that led to Castiel's fall and ruin – this was made plainly obvious to him. The ever-obedient, loyal warrior – reduced to an empty shell, forsaken by the one being he cared more about than even his own life.

The more Dean thought about it, the more he knew in his gut that this was not coincidence. Sam's heart-wrenching future transformation was not the only image Zachariah intended to sear onto Dean's brain. This was done specifically to hurt him.

But Dean had taken something else away from his venture to the future – something quite different than Heaven had intended. He was determined to save his brother and his angel from their so-called 'fate' – more so now than ever.

Staring at himself in the mirror, Dean reflected on his experience; just as he had every waking minute since returning to the present.

His eyes showed the stress of his guilt.

Dean felt his chest clamp tightly and his nose start to tingle.

_God dammit…_

There was no stopping the tears now. The images of Camp Chitaqua were scorched onto his retinas as though with a blowtorch, and the sense of heavy responsibility came down on him just as violently. Dean sank onto the bathroom floor, pulling his knees to his chest and stifling his soft sobs in his arm so as not to wake Bobby or Sam.

"I swear to you, Sam…Cas…" He found himself mumbling into the empty room as he furiously swiped a hand across his eyes. "I swear."


	5. Chapter 5

_Dean sighed as he turned the same page of the same book for the third time that night, trying to will answers to leap from the pages that hadn't been apparent before. Unsurprisingly, it seemed the book's content hadn't changed since the previous readings. _

_A low, aggravated sigh came from the small desk across the room. Dean couldn't tell whether it was Sam's frustration at coming up empty-handed, or the frustration that came from the fact his legs didn't fit under Bobby's desk at a comfortable angle. He sat with his knees at a ridiculous position, finding it hard to settle down to actually do the research. Dean felt himself smirking. _

"_Screw this." Bobby seemed to be sharing Sam's fading enthusiasm. "Boys, what do you say to a trip down to ye olde liquor store?"_

_Sam raised his eyebrows, seeming to approve. He pulled his knees out from under the desk, swung his legs awkwardly to the side, and stood up. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair he had previously occupied and plodded towards the door with Bobby. When they realised Dean hadn't got up to join them, both men stopped at the front door and turned to him._

"_You not fancy a break?" Sam asked, his eyebrow quirking._

"_Nah, I'm beat." Dean shrugged, kicking off his boots and pulling his legs onto the sofa. He dropped the book unceremoniously onto the floor beside the boots and grabbed the TV remote from the small table beside him. _

"_Not even for a drive? Or some air?" Sam shook the car keys in front of him._

"_Leave him here." Bobby muttered. "We'll grab him a six-pack." _

_Dean shouted a half-hearted 'thank you!' after them as the door closed behind Bobby._

_He flicked on the TV and began a leisurely pattern of channel-flicking, stretching out his legs. He felt his eyes begin to fall heavily, and drowsily entertained the idea of having a brief nap before the others returned._

_Any ideas Dean had about a peaceful rest were instantly scuppered when he heard the familiar sound of air shifting, coming from behind him; the noise and accompanying change in the air that indicated an angel had appeared in the room._

_Dean, with newly discovered wakefulness, raised his upper body off of the sofa and peered warily over the upholstered back. Castiel sat cross-legged on the floor, head slumped. _

_A sense of unease crawled over Dean; this was the first time Castiel had presented himself since the awkward night in the motel when he had practically caressed a shirtless Dean. Sure, he healed his grazes…but the way he had touched the hunter made his skin rise in goosebumps. _

_It was after this brief moment of unease that Dean noticed Castiel was swaying slightly, and the fact that he was sitting on the floor for some reason as opposed to standing, registered in his brain. _

"…_Cas?" Dean asked, climbing fully off the sofa and making his way around it to stand nearer the angel. He knelt down in front of him when he received no response, and peered warily under Castiel's stooped head. _

_A familiar scent suddenly caught Dean's attention. He frowned slightly, trying to define its source, before realising that it was emanating from the angel in front of him. The bitter scent of whisky drifted up his nostrils every time Castiel exhaled, even with his head lowered._

"_Cas, have you been…drinking?" Dean couldn't help the edge of incredulity that crept into his voice. Again, he gained no response, and he felt mild panic spike. He reached out a hand and firmly shook the angel's shoulder. _

_Suddenly, Castiel's head jerked upwards and his eyes opened. They lazily settled on the face of Dean, kneeling before him with a hand on his shoulder, and he frowned. _

"_Dean." He rasped, his voice rough and his breath sending another powerful wave of alcohol-scent over the hunter. Dean's brow furrowed and he wrinkled his nose slightly. Castiel seemed confused, his own frown deepening. _

"_Christ, Cas. How much have you had to drink? Are you actually…drunk?" His voice betrayed how confused he was and how unbelievable he found the situation. _

_Castiel stood, with help from Dean, and re-gained as much composure as he could. _

"_Yes. I seem to be intoxicated, yes. And I…most of the liquor store in town."_

_He was gazing around himself now, as though confused by his sudden apparition in Bobby's living room. Dean cautiously searched the angel's face, trying to assess the damage. The thought of an angel drinking enough to become drunk was just…incomprehensible. He found himself worrying that Cas might have damaged his vessel beyond repair, and the thought of him relocating into another body did strange and unpleasant things to Dean's gut._

"_Will you be able to fix your vessel, Cas?" Dean asked as he gripped the angel's elbow. He tried to meet Castiel's gaze, but he still seemed intent on looking around the room in a confused manner. "Human bodies have livers, you know. And I doubt Jimmy's body could stand all that juice."_

_"Jimmy…you know he's not in here."_

_"Yes, Cas, but his body still has…y'know, organs and stuff."_

_"I'll be fine." The angel replied curtly, finally letting his eyes rest on Dean's face. Dean noticed, however, that Cas wasn't looking at his eyes. His gaze fell directly on the hunter's lips._

"_You know I almost couldn't help it." He slurred, taking a stumble backwards but catching himself on a table._

"…_You what?" Dean took a step forward, hands slightly outstretched, on the premise that Cas falling over and smashing his vessel's head open wouldn't look good on Bobby and Sam's return. _

"_Last week, in the motel." He muttered, his eyes returning upwards to look into Dean's. "I wanted to touch you…but not just for the _healing_." With emphasis on the word 'healing', Castiel wiggled his hands dramatically. Dean almost laughed at the idiotic gesture, but controlled himself, realising what Castiel was actually saying._

"_You don't know what you're talking about, Cas." He dismissed him. "This is why getting blind drunk is not a good idea. If you remember this in the morning, you'll be sorry."_

_"I will not." Castiel almost cut Dean off with a slur of defiance. He reminded Dean somewhat of a petulant child._

"_Come on, let's get you some water or something." As he took the angel by the elbow again and led him towards the kitchen, Dean felt the drunk gaze at the side of his head. The angel's stare almost burned him; he felt it instinctually as he subtly monitored Cas in his periphery, teetering and stumbling just a pace behind. Once in the kitchen, Dean reached up towards the cabinet that housed the mugs and glasses._

"_I had to leave that room, Dean. I think if I'd stayed, I would have done something very…regretful." Dean, with his back to Castiel, attempted to ignore him. He pulled a mug from the shelf, turned around and filled it with water. He was not surprised to find Castiel's eyes boring into him when he turned back to hand over the mug. _

_Castiel took the water and studied the mug, while he continued to drunkenly ramble, much to Dean's annoyance and discomfort. _

"_You…you're so nice to just…look at." His eyes momentarily shifted to Dean again, who was attempting to nonchalantly lean against the counter as he waited for Cas to drink. The angel's eyes returned to the mug and he dipped his head. "And to touch. I like to touch you."_

_Dean felt his face flush. Accompanying this, however, was an unprecedented flip in his stomach. The thought of what his insides were doing made him feel distinctly guilty, confused and slightly ashamed._

"_Shut up. Drink your water."_

_"I don't want to drink any more." He frowned and set the mug on the table behind him, but apparently turning around was too much of a chore for his mind and body to handle. Castiel staggered, his hands splaying on the table in front of him to catch himself. He succeeded in not falling, but Dean was only aware of this after he had jumped the small distance between them and grasped at both the angel's upper arms to steady him._

_He didn't back off right away. Something in his gut churned again when the gentle and slurred whisper emanated from the unsteady drunk beneath him._

"_I like it when you touch me."_

_Dean surprised himself when his voice came out in a hushed whisper._

"_Stop, Castiel."_

_"Castiel…" the angel repeated his own name slowly, softly, as he registered Dean's use of it in its entirety. Dean minutely tensed at the tone in the angel's repetition._

_Dean loosened his grip on Cas's arms and backed away from him. He took a few paces back and settled once again at the kitchen counter, leaning to steady himself and hoping he looked calmer than he felt. Castiel shakily turned to face him._

"_Sometimes, I've checked in on you and Sam when you're sleeping, and I…I don't intend to stay for more than a second, but…I have, before." _

_Every fibre in Dean's being willed the angel to shut up. He wished in that moment that he had Sam's memory capacity or the book he had previously discarded, just so he could come up with an angel-banishing sigil. _

_Castiel took an unsteady step towards Dean, who instantly regretted backing himself against the kitchen counter. He put his hands out again, both to catch the angel if he fell and to prevent him getting too close._

"_You're so beautiful when you sleep, Dean." _

_His name sounded like a prayer falling from Castiel's drunken lips, slurred as it was. He couldn't will himself to tear his eyes away from the angel's intoxicated face, for reasons he couldn't understand. The distance between them was shortened again with another of Castiel's unsteady but confident steps._

"_Castiel, please…don't."_

_Dean was unsure why his voice sounded pained and desperate, or why he was unable to speak above a whisper. He couldn't make sense of the burning in his chest and the inability to move as the angel stepped closer still._

_A mere few inches of space lay between their faces. Dean felt almost helpless, as though once again he had been replaced by another person in his body, watching the strange situation before him unfold but with no power over what he was saying or doing. He simply peered down at the bright blue eyes that gazed up at him, their depths swimming with the effects of alcohol and something else…something burning. _

_The stubble covered chin fell forward and hit Dean's chest with a soft thud. He felt Castiel's body go slightly pliant, and instinctively grasped his arms again. _

"_Cas?" He asked, his voice regaining some strength. He shifted his arms fully around the angel to keep a firmer grip, ignoring his subconscious sneering at the gesture. He gave a light shake to the shoulders in his embrace. _

_Groggily, Castiel lifted his head. Dean immediately chastised himself for pulling him into this hug-like hold, his mind suddenly and fully aware of their bodies pressed flush together. As Castiel's head raised up, Dean felt the angel's nose and his stubble-covered jaw and the definition of his cheek brush up the length of his chest and settle against his neck. _

_A brief glance downwards, moving his head as little as possible so as not to encourage this, allowed Dean to see the angel's eyes were closed. He was unsure for a moment if Castiel had actually drifted asleep standing up._

_Dean's head was jolted back upright when the angel nuzzled against the skin of his throat, inhaling the scent of his skin. He dared not look down again, from fear of which parts of his face would accidentally make contact with Castiel's. _

_Then he felt it. The angel's lips parted, and he pressed a soft kiss to the hard ridges of his throat._

_The kiss was brief, soft and barely there…yet it did unanticipated and horrifying things to Dean's stomach and heart rate. He felt the lips still against his skin, although no longer in the form of a kiss…and they smiled._

_He definitely felt the corners of the angel's mouth lift, his face moving around to the side of Dean's neck before nuzzling again. _

_Dean felt his pulse hammer beneath the stubble. His heart thudded violently and his stomach flipped so suddenly it made him take in a sharp breath. This action did not go un-noticed by Castiel._

"_Your pulse." The angel muttered, and Dean felt the movement of his mouth and the heat of his breath right above said pulse as he spoke. "It's…faster."_

_Dean's dry throat refused to cooperate with his mind, which screamed obscenities and protests at him._

_The next kiss pressed to Dean's neck was more deliberate. More pressure was behind this one, and something…wet…grazed Dean's stubble. Castiel was doing this on purpose now, fully aware of what the previous kiss had caused…however accidental and brief._

_Horrified, Dean felt something stir in his jeans._

_A hand planted itself across Dean's chest, and he didn't need Castiel to voice what he picked up there. He could feel the jump in his heart rate all by himself, much to his horror, and he knew Castiel's palm was detecting the rapid thumping. The lips at his throat smiled again, dragging teasingly across the skin. _

_Castiel's full weight still rested against Dean, and whether he was aware of this or not Dean didn't know. All he did know was that the drunken angel left not a single inch of space between his own body and Dean's, making the growing stiffness below Castiel's belt utterly unmistakable against Dean's thigh. Dean tried to repress his own confusing arousal, willing it away in disbelief. _

"_I want to touch you." The lips moved against his neck. "Let me touch you, Dean."_

_Dean felt himself exhale in a rush, instantly feeling ashamed. He was not some virginal teenage girl. The urge to shove Castiel violently away from his body was warring in Dean's head with the aversion to cause a fall that could result in the inebriated angel injuring himself. Dean was also fully aware that he couldn't bend his head down and yell at Cas, right in his face, without the action being misinterpreted - he refused to give a reason for Cas to move his lips upwards._

_"No. I don't want…No."_

_Castiel was silent for a few moments, and Dean thought that maybe he shouldn't have used such a harsh tone._

_"Your body says otherwise."_

_Dean cursed himself, knowing Castiel had felt it. Here he stood; a drunk, and very _male_ angel pressed firmly and completely against his body in Bobby's kitchen, and both of them were undeniably aroused. Why his body reacted this way, he didn't know, but there had to be some rational explanation. Sometimes this shit just happened; that didn't mean you were turned on by the person who happened to be there at the time._

"_Leave my body out of this." Dean said, attempting to put a hand between the unsteady angel and his own chest to prise them apart. Castiel grabbed Dean's wrist as his hand ghosted between them, and for a brief moment Dean was utterly terrified that Cas was going to move his hand somewhere he really, really didn't want it to go. The angel held on firmly, but didn't disobey Dean's order of no touching. Instead, he gave Dean's neck one final, soft kiss, holding his wrist with a surprisingly strong grip. _

_His teeth nipped at the skin, and Dean found himself gasping in surprise. The fingers of his left hand, trapped firmly by their bodies and by the angel's lithe fingers, gave a twitch._

"_Dean?" Sam's voice cut through the stale air, resonating from the front door. He heard his brother lumber inside and shake off his jacket and boots, followed by Bobby. The unmistakable rustle of paper bags and the clinking of glass bottles being set on the floor followed their voices through the hall. _

_Dean's eyes widened, and he pushed the drunk angel off of him, as gently as his chaotic brain would allow. Castiel stumbled forward with his eyes closed once again, sinking into Dean's chest out of necessity rather than drunken sexual invitation. _

_Just as Bobby opened the door to the kitchen, Dean felt Castiel go completely limp. He swiftly swung one of the angel's arms around his neck and held it at the wrist, and grasped him at the waist with his free hand, supporting the dead weight to the best of his ability. When Bobby turned his gaze on them, it looked as if they had been standing poised, waiting for him to enter._

"_What in the hell…" Bobby trailed off as Sam pushed around him, a frown settling immediately over his widened eyes. _

"_He's drunk." Dean managed, shrugging to lift Castiel's body higher. With this, Sam simply walked around the other side of the angel and grabbed his other arm, mirroring Dean's grip. They hoisted the unconscious body to the couch and dumped him there. _

"_You know, we were wondering why the store was three-quarters empty."_

_And with that, Sam settled on the floor in front of the TV with the six pack he had purchased._

_Dean was never more thankful for his brother's general lack of prying._


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for all the continuing interest and support :) Enough flashbacks (for now) - here's a continuation of what's going on in the present. **

_Day 16 – 9.06PM_

"We thought we should check it out, just in case."

Dean turned from Bobby and snatched his jacket from the back of one of the chairs in the older hunter's living room. He heard a familiar clinking and rattling as Sam retrieved the keys to the Impala from a small dish in the kitchen.

"And where exactly did you boys get this valuable information?" Bobby scoffed, his sceptical eyes following them as they gathered gear from around him.

"Well, it's not much…" Sam started hesitantly, knowing outright that Bobby would probably disapprove. "Cas…overheard…part of a conversation between two low-level demons last night."

"And it's _impossible_ that they were bullshitting for the ears of the other team." Bobby's every word dripped with disapproving sarcasm.

"They didn't say it out loud." Dean added. "He…heard one of them _think_ it." Bobby paused, considering this. The extent of demons' angelic knowledge was a mystery to the three of them – it was possible that these demons were unaware of Castiel's privacy-invading abilities, in which case the information from their thoughts was likely to be genuine.

"And if they do know about his angel mojo," Bobby continued, "and they're screwing with you…then boy, you better hope to God you're not walking into something above your pay grade."

Sam smiled.

"Apocalypse, remember? I don't think anything is off limits anymore."

.

* * *

.

_10.03PM_

"You think Bobby has a point?" Sam asked cautiously, breaking a few minutes of driving in silence. He had a feeling Dean had been thinking the same thing.

"It's always possible. Then again, anything is." Dean clarified, keeping his steely eyes on the road.

"You think we should pray to Cas? Let him know we're checking it out?"

Dean's eyebrow twitched minutely. "I think he already knows. He tipped us off, after all."

Sam kept his eyes on his brother for a few seconds longer before awkwardly shifting them to the windshield. Dean scoffed in response.

"Ok, ok. You tell him, I'm driving."

.

* * *

.

_10.34PM  
_  
Dean pulled into the parking lot of a small burger joint about an hour and a half from Bobby's, shutting off the engine and headlights. The place was deserted at 10.30PM, with all the regulars usually frequenting between 7AM and 1, then from 5PM until 7.

The neon sign flickered with a distracting buzz, advertising '_the best burgers in town!_'; an usurprisingly inviting beacon to the eldest Winchester. Suddenly Dean couldn't remember the exact taste of the bacon cheeseburgers from the place, despite eating there a thousand times, and he suddenly found that he really, _really_ wanted to remind himself.

"Dean?" Sam said, the hint of disapproval steadily seeping into his tone. Dean's attention snapped away from the window of the café and landed on his brother's face, and he made an exasperated noise at the back of his throat in response to Sam's ever-encroaching bitch-face.

"Alright, alright. But burgers _later_."

Sam rolled his eyes.

According to what Cas had overheard, there would be some higher-ranking demons discussing Lucifer's side of the grand Apocalyptic Plan tonight – in public, and in the bar across the street.

Both brothers chanced a glance across at the bar. It was steadily beginning to fill with the usual crowd – wayward hitchhikers, the rebellious daughter away from home for no more than the night, mostly bikers passing through…

And the subtly-placed spawn of hell, weaving their way through the humans like wolves among a shepherd's blissfully ignorant flock.

.

* * *

.

_11.59PM_

"See anyone we recognise?" Sam asked, the driver's side being closer to the bar. Dean frowned and tried to scan the faces of the people who trickled inside in small groups as they appeared. The bar seemed to only be housing a few patrons when they arrived. Now, at roughly midnight, there were significantly more people inside.

Which meant more distraction and noise to cover the chatter of demons who were clearly too stupid to keep classified information classified.

Dean shook his head. "I say we go in. Looks like we move now or we miss it."

Sam seemed to consider this, before nodding curtly and opening his side door.

Both brothers tried to blend in as they strolled across the street towards the bar. The key to not being identified as an outsider was to make a conscious effort to appear anything but.

Dean prayed to God that the pistol stuffed unceremoniously down the back of his jeans wasn't affecting his demeanour.

He glanced once more at Sam as they approached the door, attempting to communicate a reminder of 'act casual' with a quirk of his eyebrow. He pushed on the door and nonchalantly strolled inside, followed by Sam.

The bar looked as it always did, full of the expected types. As they approached the bartender, Sam subtly conducted a quick scan of the seating booths around the perimeter of the room, Dean glancing in turn at the other customers seated on stools at the bar.

"Two Jacks, straight up." Dean took one of the empty seats in front of them, followed by Sam, who finished up his evaluation of their fellow patrons with a disapproving frown.

"Uh…"

"Just drink it." Dean interrupted, sliding one of their newly acquired drinks towards him and raising his own to his lips.

"See anyone who stands out?" He asked with his voice lowered, his eyes doing the rounds again.

"The booth nearest the back door."

Dean subtly flicked his eyes in that direction and noticed what Sam had picked up on. A group of 4 men and one woman sat in a booth, isolated on all sides despite other groups appearing to want to sit down. They were all well-dressed – too well-dressed for this type of place. The woman leaned casually against the plush leather at the back of her seat, smoking a cigarette, while the four men appeared to be deep in conversation. She would occasionally contribute a few words, but mostly she just sat and watched the others huddled rather closely together.

"The blonde guy." Sam muttered. "Recognise him?"

Dean focussed his gaze. The man in question continually ran his hand through his shock of blonde hair in a gesture Dean suddenly recognised with a jolt.

"Broward County." Dean almost hissed it. In Florida last year, a suspiciously high number of citizens had been making crossroads deals, so they checked it out. For reasons he refused to explain, a demon had been blackmailing people into the deals, and without the decency to even hold up his end of the bargain. Expecting to only live 10 more years was bad enough – even worse when you died one week later.

The demon at the centre of this 'project' had inhabited the body of the blonde man they now watched – a local who ran a sporting goods store. Luckily, he had survived the possession, but apparently this asshole became attached to his vessel.

"Poor son of a bitch." Dean sighed and sipped his whisky.

"He did that when he was nervous, or…amused." Sam reflected.

"So," Dean heard the venom in his own voice. "what do you expect our friends are talking about that he finds so damn funny?"

"- or worrying." Sam reminded him. They continued to watch in silence.

.

* * *

.

_Day 17 – 1.13AM_

By now, at almost 1.15 AM, the bar had mostly emptied. The last few groups were trickling out, or more often staggering. The Winchesters listened as bouts of obscene laughter and arguing faded into the night.

"Ok." Dean stated matter-of-factly, setting his empty tumbler on the bar counter. "Here's the plan – you need the bathroom."

"But I-"

"-You need the bathroom." Dean reaffirmed, causing Sam to roll his eyes. "I'm going to 'wait in the car' – I'll be out back near that door." He gestured subtly towards the back entrance near the booth still occupied by the demons. "We attack from both sides."

Sam considered this. "There are five of them. Think we'll need backup?"

"You prayed to Cas on the way here. He knows where we are."

Sam still looked mildly doubtful. "I'll give you a verbal signal?"

"Say 'pancakes'"

"how the hell am I supposed to work 'pancakes' into a conversation with demons?"

"You're not asking for their daughter's hand in marriage, Sam. Just go up to them and…"

A voice cut Dean off mid-way through his scolding.

"Ok, I think you boys have had quite enough fun for one night, now."

Both Winchesters paused in their muttered exchange and turned towards the source of the interruption. The barman leant casually against the back counter, rolling a tumbler between his hands and cleaning it with a cloth. He eyed the brothers nonchalantly.

"Excuse me?" Dean frowned, although his skin prickled at the realisation that he had probably heard a good portion of what they had been discussing. Did he think they were insane? Drunk? Both? Any of those options would be preferable to the truth.

He blinked once, and Dean's stomach plummeted. Sam inhaled sharply as the eyes of the man flashed threateningly, reflecting the Winchesters' faces momentarily in the oily blackness. A brief glance away from the barkeep was all it took for Dean's creeping sense of dread to be affirmed; the remaining pockets of patrons all stared back at the hunters, hollow eyes swimming with black malevolence and shining in the dim light of the shabby room like a beady-eyed flock of crows.

Sam leant minutely closer to his brother, and muttered under his breath, although the room had fallen silent and left no room for secrecy.

"Looks like we….underestimated this." Dean felt his eyes close in exasperation. They were outnumbered heavily; around 13 to their measly 2.

A voice from the back of the room cut through the tense atmosphere, sounding buoyant and delighted.

"Sam and Dean Winchester!" it cooed, followed by a single enthusiastic clap. Both brothers winced, instantly recognising the grating voice. They raised their heads to face the blonde demon, who sauntered over from the booth he had shared with his entourage all night. They followed closely behind him, all looking mildly amused.

Both hunters hastily vacated their seats, standing to attention. Struggling to keep their eyes on the demons surrounding them on all sides was making Sam anxious.

"Feel free to leave." The female demon offered, and it took Dean a moment to realise she was not speaking to Sam and him, but to the random demonic patrons that still lounged in booths or leaned impassively against a wall, watching the scene unfold with irritating smirks.

"You are not required." The woman hissed more forcefully, turning her attention to the bartender. He took a moment to evaluate her demeanour before making his choice.

"You heard her. Clear out."

Instantly, the demons vanished into thin air, including the man behind the bar. Dean grimaced as he caught the tail-end of huffed laughter.

"So…" The woman continued, leaving the brothers to wonder who was at the forefront of their plan. The blonde man stood back with the others, allowing the red-headed woman to apparently take charge. "What brings the almighty Winchesters to our humble little corner of town?" She smirked, her lipstick-stained lips riding smugly over perfect teeth as she watched them.

"Let me guess," she continued, much to the eldest Winchester's annoyance. Dean would have preferred a bit more silence to try and figure out how they were going to wriggle out of this one. "-you heard someone thinking-over Lucifer's side of things, and you thought you'd just ride in here on white horses and stop it all?"

"I bet they had _interrogation_ on their minds." One of the men added. Both brothers' eyes jumped between the demons as they each offered their piece.

"That's adorable." The woman's smirk was ever-present now, her red hair falling in waves around her shoulders. Dean really wanted to slap her until that cherry-red lipstick smeared from her smug mouth. "You boys never fail to amuse us."

Her attention turned to Sam, and she let her eyes roam over him. Dean felt his skin prickle at that, he didn't like the way she seemed to evaluate every inch of his brother. He wondered why the four men were just standing there, what they were waiting for.

"Sam." She uttered almost lovingly, like an adoring mother. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, almost polite in her demeanour. "You had so much promise." Dean saw the edge of Sam's mouth twitch. "You _still_ have so much promise."

"Well, it's a shame to cry over spilled milk." Dean interjected, distracting her doting. She turned her head towards him and her expression darkened. As though sensing this, two of the men rushed at Dean, successfully managing to restrain him with his arms tugged taut behind his back. He thrashed against them wildly, and heard Sam moving towards him, only for the remaining two men to crowd his younger brother and prevent him doing anything.

The woman took a few elegant steps towards Dean, high-heeled stilettos clicking slowly on the wooden floor, all black-patent leather and polish. Her black dress, tight around the bust but loose and floating at the knees, swished rhythmically as she approached.

"It's a shame you've been vomited from the pit of Hell," Dean said as she got uncomfortably close to his face. "-because otherwise, you're quite the looker."

She cracked him swiftly across the cheek with the back of her hand, and only now did Dean realise she was wearing a ring.

Son of a _bitch_…

The woman grabbed his face between her thumb and fingers, pressing uncomfortably into either side of his jaw, and steered his head to look at her.

"You think you're so smart, Dean Winchester." She almost spat his name with poisonous hatred. "So powerful, so _sure_."

"I wouldn't say that." Dean said as best he could through the vice-like grip on his face and the burning protest from his arms. "I prefer to think of myself as laid-back, cocky in that man-I'd-let-him-into-my-pants sorta way, but a romantic at heart."

He relished the rage that burned in the woman's eyes at his dismissal of her threats.

"Truthfully, you're nothing." The smirk returned, and Dean found he really, really hated it. "You two are nothing but a speck on our radar - the apocalypse will happen with or without you. It's no surprise you're unwilling to accept your roles."

The men guarding Sam shuffled slightly. Dean tried to flick his gaze towards his brother to see what he had done to prompt them, but the woman violently jerked his head back towards her.

"You _imbeciles_," She hissed through a tensed jaw, "-are so mentally deficient, that you managed to break the first seal, and the last, without even _realising_ it."

Sam tensed every muscle in his body, willing some of his banished power to break forth. Despite nothing happening, the two male demons in front of him - and the two holding Dean - seemed to minutely stiffen their posture every time he tried. He hoped this would keep them distracted.

_Long enough for what? Nothing is happening. Nobody is coming._

The blonde man that they had recognised from Florida spoke up from behind Dean, his grip on the hunter's arms tightening wickedly.

"How do you hope to single-handedly stop the apocalypse? Tell us, really, we're _dying_ to know." The other three men scoffed a snort of laughter.

"Maybe we'll take _him_," The woman spoke again, and Sam turned his head towards them to realise she was referring to him, "and string him up on a rack for you." Her grip on Dean's jaw tightened, enough to surely bruise. Dean's eyes locked with his brother's, and something pained and enraged flickered there. Sam could almost see the fires of Hell dancing behind his brother's gaze in gruelling remembered torment.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Dean?" She had lowered her voice almost to a whisper, cooing into the shell of Dean's ear. "Alastair hand-picks his protégés – none of us could forget how well you took to torture. And you've always loved to include Sam…"

A growl escaped Dean's mouth and he violently jerked his limbs. The demons barely wavered, holding him tighter and each now restraining one of his legs with their own. Dean attempted to at least pull his head free of the woman's grip, but she held as strong as her male counterparts, smiling at his reaction.

"Maybe Sam would like a turn?" One of the men watching the younger Winchester offered. "It's not fair to let big brother have _all_ the fun." Sam recoiled imperceptibly.

"I'll fucking kill you." Dean spat in the face of the woman. "You don't want to fuck with me."

She raised her eyebrows incredulously at his threat, restraining her urge to laugh.

"Oh, really?" She asked, her voice betraying her amusement. "You hear that, boys? We _don't want to fuck with him_." Her voice took on a mocking tone that enraged Dean further.

Sam glanced towards his brother. He knew Dean's protective side emerged under threats like this, but once again he felt the gnawing sense of unease that had been following them for more than two weeks. This was not the usual brotherly protectiveness that Sam was familiar with – this was _that_ feeling. Dean's secret that frightened so many creatures. But these demons stood firm.

"Please," one of the men watching Sam piped in, "did you really think that stench would scare us?"

"It should."

The gravelly voice - laced with anger and adrenaline - pierced the air from behind the demon who spoke, a fraction of a second before Ruby's knife was jammed so forcefully into his back that it penetrated his shirt at the other side. His eyes blew wide and flickered as the life force left him, and his limp vessel fell to the ground on its knees.

Only upon seeing the knife in the grasp of Castiel's blood-soaked fist, did Sam realise it had been swiped from inside his sock.

The two demons restraining Dean exchanged a glance, before gently releasing him and strolling around his body to face Castiel. The woman also turned, as though all three of them were confident that Dean would do nothing with their backs to him. The third man, near Sam, took one glance at his freshly murdered ally and calmly turned to also watch what Castiel would do next. His face displayed a look of barely-concealed annoyance.

"Castiel." He stated, a faked smile forced over his face. "It's a pleasure."

Sam wondered why Castiel made no further move towards any of the demons. Instead, he looked between the four, slowly…evaluating.

"Do you have a preference as to which of you dies first?"

The question surprised Sam, as did the angel's entire demeanour. His lips were drawn tight and his face twitched with a vengeance more concentrated than he had ever seen in him before.

"Wow." The blonde male demon offered a small insolent smile. "You dogs protect your territory pretty fiercely, don't you?"

Sam couldn't help but notice that despite Castiel's lack of reaction to this bizarre statement, Dean's body stiffened and a flush crept up his face. His breathing became minutely heavier and his eyes darkened.

"…Dean?" He hedged, genuinely concerned at the intensity of the stare his brother had focussed on the blonde demon. No matter that they had previously saved this man from possession – Dean looked ready to rip his limbs off. Dean failed to reply, instead flickering his gaze to Castiel.

"I want this one." He uttered menacingly, and even Castiel looked troubled.

"I'm terrified, really." The blonde man's voice dripped sarcasm, but Sam thought he saw a sliver of doubt swimming behind his words. "Please spare me your almighty wrath, angel-bitch."

"Watch your fucking mouth." Dean retaliated, still not making a move towards any of the demons. The stand-off was making Sam uneasy.

"Dean, what is he talking about? Why did he call you…territory?"

"Really, kid? You can't smell that?" One of the other male demons hurriedly hissed, attempting to keep up the air of nonchalance. "It's all over him – the stench of an angel. He reeks of it. It's embarrassing, really."

Sam turned his head towards the man who spoke, feeling a frown form on his brow.

"…Stench?"

"Don't fucking speak to him." Dean gritted out, and Sam was unaware whether he was addressing him or the demon. He figured it may well be intended for both of them.

"Cas?" Dean said, his tone still barely passing for calm. His eyes never left the blonde demon as he addressed the angel.

Sam watched, dumbfounded and rendered apparently useless, as Castiel charged one of the remaining male demons. He barely had time to turn around and fight back, before Castiel thrust the blade of Ruby's knife between his shoulder blades and twisted, a crude crunch filling the air in the bar.

He moved in on a second man in quick succession, and Sam found his eyes were glued to the angel. The way he moved was unlike anything he had ever seen before; full of power and grace, of course, but also fuelled by impressively-controlled rage that seemed out of place in such a being. His coat swirled around him almost like part of an elaborate costume as he attempted to grab the second man. This demon turned in time, and went to pull a blade of his own from the back of his slacks – perhaps an angel banishing blade, kept concealed until Castiel was present? Part of a trap?

Sam never saw, as the demon's wrist was penetrated with the demon-killing knife on its journey. Castiel wrenched the knife back to him, bringing the man's hand with it at a painful-looking angle. An animalistic scream built up in the demon as he studied his own burning wrist, the flickers of ember-like fire spreading into his hand and up his arm, rotting the flesh outwards in every direction. He fell to his knees before Castiel, gripping the area. The angel drove the blade into his heart as he descended.

As Sam watched this enrapturing scene unfolding, the female demon moved towards him, intent on using his lack of weapon to her advantage. No sooner had Sam realised he was weaponless did Dean's voice shout out to him.

"Sam!"

The younger Winchester turned to see Dean hurriedly pull the concealed pistol from the back of his jeans and toss it in his direction. Sam barely had time to register Dean moving in on the blonde demon, minus the pistol and apparently now unarmed himself, before his attention snapped to the airborne weapon. He snatched it just as she held a hand out at him, sending him flying across the bar and into the opposite wall.

Unaware of whether or not she noticed or cared about his newly acquired gun, Sam stood up and tensed his right shoulder experimentally. Something pulled painfully at the movement, and he inwardly cursed. Raising the pistol to the woman, he pulled the trigger twice, and watched as two home-customised bullets – crafted from smelted iron – made their home inside her vessel. Enraged at the realisation of the burn in her chest, the woman vanished from the room.

Sam turned in the direction of his brother and Castiel. The angel had polished off three of the four male demons with the knife, their bodies lying limp and lifeless on the floor, temporarily forgotten. Dean was much more intent on the blonde man who he currently knelt over, straddling him with one knee pressed into the wooden panelled floor on either side of his body. Sam took one cautious step towards this scene, then another, his eyes dancing between Castiel and his brother's back.

As he came around to Dean's side, Sam caught eye contact with the blonde demon under his brother, who let out an uncomfortable groan as the tip of a knife lightly traced the flesh of his cheek.

Castiel stood back, a slight look of discomfort on his face but obediently staying silent in the face of Dean's actions.

Sam continued to watch as Dean drizzled the knife with a clear solution from a hip flask and allowed it to drip lazily over various spots of the demon's face. The faint sizzle and charring of the skin beneath the drip led Sam to conclude that the solution was holy water.

"Dean?" Sam was surprised by the discomfort in his own voice. "Please, just kill him so we can leave."

"I'll get to that part, Sammy." Dean hissed, placing one hand on the throat of the demon and pressing down hard, while littering the man's jaw bone with superficial nicks from the knife. At every one, a pained groan emitted from his mouth, and Sam was sure he was straining to control his vocalisations. Sam was aware of Dean's distaste for having a demon knock his pride, but when he opened his mouth, it was not his own name he defended.

"Call him a dog, one more time."

Dean barely spoke above a whisper, leaning close to the demon's face as he squeezed down on his neck. The man smiled, pulling his lips back over blood-stained teeth. Someone must have got some punches in while Sam was fighting that redhead bitch…

"Fuck you, Dean Winchester," The demon hissed right back through his blood-slicked teeth and rapidly discolouring face, "and your little dog, too."

With one swift series of movements, Dean forced the flask of holy water into the mouth of the demon, allowing it to cascade down his throat. He began gurgling and screeching, and the look on Dean's face as he watched, utterly enraptured, made Sam cringe.

Dean held out a hand without taking his eyes away from the squirming mess of a man beneath him. Sam frowned, and jumped slightly when Castiel tossed Ruby's knife towards him with no need for a verbal prompt. Dean caught the knife with some measure of surprising grace, and thrust it upwards into the skull of the blonde man. All the life in his eyes drained, and he finally fell silent and still.

Sam found he had trouble catching his breath as he watched his brother stand up, tucking the knife into the back of his jeans and breathing heavily.

"Sorry, Cas." He muttered, finally looking the angel's way while talking to him.

Sam's gaze flickered between the two, utterly confused. He was about to voice his opinions about being so obviously excluded from the loop, when Castiel's posture stiffened and his eyes took on a new appearance. He smelled a threat in the air.

"It's not over." He muttered, and his head tilted towards the ceiling. Both brothers found themselves following his gaze, and Sam's skin prickled with unease.

"They're coming."


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the reviews as always, guys :) **

"Who, Cas?" Sam's eyebrows bunched together as his eyes left the ceiling and settled on the angel's face. "Who's coming?"

Castiel did not seem inclined to answer, and any further push was lost on Sam's lips when the ceiling began to quiver and the floorboards beneath their feet shook. The light fixtures began to jostle, the illumination fluctuating randomly and casting bizarre shadows around the walls. One by one the bulbs exploded into tiny showers of shattered glass, landing at their feet.

The brothers didn't need to be told when pissed-off angels signalled their arrival.

Two figures materialised before the three of them, at precisely the moment the floorboards and ceiling stilled again. Anna and Uriel surveyed the Winchesters and Castiel in turn. Sam felt his stomach jump slightly – the last time he had come face to face with Anna, she had been intent on killing him.

"Uriel." Castiel turned to his brother in greeting, then nodded to his sister. "Anna. You come with purpose, I assume." The tone in Castiel's voice did unpleasant things to Sam's gut.

"Castiel." She replied, a hint of regret in her voice. Both new sets of angelic eyes were focussed on Castiel, as though studying his every move. Sam knew he was going to dislike anything and everything that transpired from now onwards.

"I'm sorry. Really, I am…we both are." She spared a sideways glance at Uriel, who didn't acknowledge her. His eyes were still trained on his brother, with a look Sam had seen before burning there - distaste.

"We do come to you with a purpose, yes." She continued. Uriel clasped his hands tightly in front of him. "You have to understand…we have orders."

"Is this about me?" Sam heard the words leave his mouth before he realised he was speaking. "Are you here to finish me off?"

Anna surveyed him, weighing up his question.

"Sam, I was wrong to go against my orders." She began, looking solemn and apologetic. "I should not have tried to harm you. I was reckless and…and I've learned my lesson."

Neither of the Winchesters missed the subtle glance Uriel threw her way.

"However…" Sam knew this was not simply an apology visit. "…we have been sent to you with an ultimatum."

"Great." Dean piped up from Sam's right-hand side. "Why do I not like the sound of that?"

"Castiel," Uriel took over, ignoring Dean completely, "I'm sure you are aware of the punishment that often comes with rebellion." He let a meaningful silence hang in the air, and both brothers looked towards the angel.

"I get the feeling this is not about Anna attempting to kill Sam against our orders?"

Dean, despite himself, felt a smirk of pride pass his face at the angel's newly-developing sarcasm. He was a damn good teacher. Uriel, however, did not seem to appreciate this.

"You should have been smote the moment you chose to stay on earth." He hissed, his eyes betraying him with a glance towards the brothers. "You know full well that you're too attached to them. It's sickening."

Castiel's face betrayed no hint of emotion.

"And when Anna mentioned…" Uriel trailed off, his dark eyes once again brimming with repulsion, and he quashed what was apparently some sort of digression from his main point. "…ordinarily, the humans would die too."

His gaze landed on Dean. "You're lucky you're so important."

"We're being given a reprieve." Anna interjected, her voice soft and cautious, as though attempting to buffer Uriel's tone. "Both of us – we can be forgiven." A sisterly smile touched her lips.

"And?" Castiel said cautiously, mirroring the hunters' suspiciousness. Anna seemed at a loss for how to continue, so Uriel picked up harshly.

"Your pets need to accept their roles," he spoke as though Sam and Dean were not present, which made Sam twitch internally with anger, "or they die. This is not a joke, brother."

Castiel, who had remained looking impartial for the entirety of his fellow angels' speech so far, finally showed a sliver of emotion. His head dipped minutely and his eyes twitched, his muscles going taut.

"You will not touch them." His voice had also dropped, threatening and dripping with carefully controlled rage.

"It is not up to you." Uriel said, turning to Sam and Dean. "It is up to your friends here. What will it be?"

"They have already chosen." Castiel answered for them. "And…" He paused, and Sam noticed him raising his head to look at them. His eyes passed over Sam and landed on his brother, who held the angel's gaze with a tight knot in his brow and an unfamiliar look in his eye. "-and I stand by their decision."

Sam had never seen Uriel look so repulsed and disappointed. He sighed.

"That is…regrettable. But they, like all of their kind, can be replaced."

Castiel moved forwards with such suddenness that Sam almost jumped. He planted himself firmly between his fellow angels and the humans in his charge, staring Uriel down with a rush of defiance.

Sam watched from around the angel's shoulder as Uriel's nose wrinkled and his brow creased. He physically flinched.

"Anna did not lie." He hissed, not attempting to quash the disgust on his face. "You…you smell like one of them."

Castiel did not flinch in the slightest.

"It's quite repugnant. I've never found them to be much of a distraction myself…I've never seen the…_appeal_." Sam noticed that Uriel's eyes had been on Dean for most of this scolding, and that now he was receiving an intense judgemental once-over. He attempted to process this.

"Castiel, let us help you." Anna, the sweeter side of their good-cop-bad-cop routine, interjected again. "You're in too deep."

"You know enough of feeling, Anna, to understand this."

"I don't want to hurt you, Castiel. But if they refuse to accept their roles…our orders are to kill them. And you know the consequences of that, now…" Her eyes held on to the solemn, saddened glaze they had displayed since her appearance in the room.

Sam glanced at Dean, hoping for an answer as to what the hell the 'consequences' of their deaths would be for Cas. He expected to see his own confusion reflected in Dean, but instead he found that his brother wasn't even looking at him.

Dean stared down at the floor, and Sam followed his gaze to see that no, he wasn't looking intensely at the creaking floorboards of the bar. He was staring down at the sleeve of Castiel's trench coat, where his right hand hung down by his side. He was softly, subtly, stroking Castiel's hand with the back of his knuckles as it rested by the angel's side.

Sam's brain prepared to evacuate his body.

_What the fuck is going on?_

It was only when Dean stiffened beside him and withdrew his own hand, and Uriel turned his attention to Sam, that he realised he had spoken his thought aloud.

"Excuse me?" Uriel's eyebrows twitched upwards.

"I…I mean, what the hell are you all talking about? I feel like I'm being left out of some sort of…_loop_. All of this, it's…what's going on!"

After Sam had apparently finished tripping over his own words, Uriel collected himself and began to voice his own incredulity.

"You…you are unaware?" A faint smile ghosted over his face, and Sam felt his confusion melt together with nausea. "Anna failed to tell you?"

Sam glanced at Anna, who was in turn watching Uriel with unsure eyes.

"Or rather more surprising – your own brother neglected to inform you of his…situation?" Again, the mild disgust had crept into the angel's tone, but it was now masked by amusement.

"That's none of your goddamn business." Dean spat, taking a step forwards until he pressed into Castiel, seemingly only now remembering that the angel was standing in front of him. He relaxed minutely and inched backwards again. Uriel's smirk twitched.

"This is…fascinating, really." His eyes passed between the three of them. "Castiel, can you really be so involved to be sucked into their insignificant dramas?" Castiel brushed off his brother's judgemental tone.

"I'm sorry," Sam interrupted again, "I've still had nothing explained, here. What 'situation' is Dean in?"

A silence hung in the air, nobody offering Sam any information, until Castiel finally spoke.

"Dean and I…"

"Cas." Dean's tone was warning, like he was scolding a child. The angel fell silent, unsure eyes being drawn immediately to the eldest hunter and settling on his face, searching it for guidance and asking for permission. His eyes pleaded with Dean's in a silent conversation.

"This is ridiculous." Uriel stated. "Castiel, you would obey a human as though he were our Father?" He made a scoffing noise at the back of his throat. Castiel kept his eyes on Dean, ignoring his own brother's judgemental incredulity.

"When an angel is mated," Anna spoke up, "he or she develops a bond much deeper than that of an emotional or physical human connection. Their mate…tethers to them, in many ways you will not know of. Once mated they are…fiercely protective. Angels will make the ultimate sacrifice for their mate, even without conscious choice." She paused, evaluating Sam's reaction. "If we were to kill your brother, Sam, Castiel would also die."

When Anna fell silent, every other person in the room had their attention focussed on her. Uriel barely blinked. Castiel dipped his head before a side-ways glance at Dean, and Dean stared at her with barely-contained shock on his face.

"You're saying…" Sam started, his brain working in overtime to process what was possibly the strangest thing he had ever been told. He turned his attention away from Anna and faced Dean.

"-that you and Castiel are…mated?"

Dean, unable to avoid Sam's burning gaze, turned towards his brother. His face was much less flushed and he appeared less flustered than Sam would have expected had this news been true. However, Dean nodded his head gently. He glanced at Cas, who had been watching him since Anna stopped speaking, and Sam felt something in his stomach when he evaluated the look he saw in his brother's eyes.

It reminded him of the way Bobby had said their father used to look at their mother.

It was the way Bobby himself looked when he zoned out staring at his wife's faded photograph.

It was the way people told him he once looked at Jessica.

The knot tightened in Sam's stomach, unsure of how to process this information. A new thought suddenly occurred to him. "Dean…" He began, pulling his brother's attention back to him, "why didn't you tell me?"

Now that he had this knowledge, the explanation for every strange turn of events and all of Dean's withdrawn behaviour over the past couple of weeks, it felt like a weight had been physically lifted from him.

"I…" Dean frowned slightly, trailing off for lack of a decent answer.

Sam allowed this, seeing the discomfort still evident on his brother's face. "I'm just glad you're ok."

A moment of silence hung in the room as Dean processed his brother's warm tone. He had been found out; his and Castiel's bond had been exposed – and it seemed he was accepted. _They_ were accepted.

"As touching as this scene is," Uriel interjected, his clasped hands finally detaching from each other, "we regret to remind you of your ultimatum."

The Winchesters and Castiel turned to him again, postures stiffened and wary.

"We have made our choice." Castiel reiterated.

"Then I'm sorry, brother."

Uriel's hand moved quickly from his back, and he advanced towards them with the handle of his angel-killing blade gripped firmly with regret.

Sam watched as the series of events seemed to unfold before him in slow-motion; Uriel's eyes landed on Dean, and that familiar glint of disgust flickered there. He held the blade high, and Castiel launched himself between the threat and…his _mate_.

Uriel brought the angel-killing blade thrusting downwards in one swift motion.

Sam barely felt in control of his legs when they began to move forward. He felt like he was watching from another point in the room entirely, from a viewpoint that was not his own, when he shouldered Castiel's body with all the force he could summon, catapulting himself into the path of destruction.


	8. Chapter 8

**As you probably guessed from the last chapter, this story is taking on a format very different from what I initially intended! I'm just letting the story lead me, to be honest.**

A blinding pain seared through Sam's chest, despite raising his arms to protect himself. He almost didn't want to look down, knowing full well what he would see and feeling nauseous already. Vaguely, he became aware of Dean screaming somewhere to his right.

_Ah, good. He's alright then. _

He really was making an awful lot of noise.

_Wow, it's warm in here…_

Something tugged at his chest, like a rope was attached to his rib cage and was pulling him forwards violently. He didn't really mind where the pull was taking him, he just wished it would be more _gentle_…

A white light glared blindingly before his eyes, and Sam felt the tugging sensation stop. He found himself wishing he had fallen to his knees a fraction of a second later so he could have seen what it was. But there he was on the floor, already. Lying down on his side now, he noted, something sticky flowing steadily over his hands. The warmth was fading now, seeping away through the shabby floorboards of the bar and into the early morning. It was giving way to a creeping, encroaching chill.

The source of the tugging became evident when Sam's hand – one he didn't remember moving to his chest – encountered the hilt of Uriel's blade, still half-lodged between two of his ribs. The ornate handle was smeared with bloody fingerprints, the blade warmed by the surrounding flesh.

Across the floor, on his side with deadened eyes boring into Sam's, Uriel lay splayed with charred wings staining the ground.

The vague background noise that Sam couldn't really focus on was starting to bother him. It was like the real world, dubbed-over with static and white noise. It sounded like arguing. Another bright flash of light forced him to close his eyes, and suddenly re-opening them felt like such a chore.

A swift slap to the face stung his skin, then fingers violently pried his eyes open. Dean stared down at him, panic evident across his features. Behind Dean, Sam saw the body of Anna, lying on her back with the tip of her wing's ashes overlapping Uriel's.

"Cas!" Dean yelled, not taking his eyes off of Sam. "You'll be fine, man, he missed your heart." Sam nodded complacently, allowing Dean to roll him onto his back. "Cas, it's uh…it's still pretty deep in there."

"I couldn't have allowed Uriel to retrieve it, Dean. He would have attacked m…"

"Yeah Cas, I know, but…"

The dialogue around Sam felt shrouded in cotton wool, like he was wrapped in a fluffy blanket and watching a sitcom. Nothing felt real; everything seemed to blur together into a scene he watched from another world.

"On three." Dean's voice crept inside his ear, and Sam didn't like the edge to it. _Why is he counting?_

When Dean reached '3' in his counting, Sam felt the pain intensify to the point where he thought he would lose consciousness. He had been knocked about a lot in his life, but this…this was like someone had shoved a hand straight into his chest and was wiggling it around in there, trying to grab something.

One last spurt of warmth flooded him from the chest outwards, giving everything it could before the cold set in again. He was vaguely aware of Dean's arm withdrawing something shiny and blood-smeared, followed by a clatter on the floor as he carelessly dropped it behind him.

Before Sam could even jokingly scold him for the pain he'd caused, Castiel was in his face, rushing in on him like the loyal soldier he was. A hand pressed roughly – too roughly, Sam thought – against his chest, and he felt everything become even hazier than before. Every one of his senses went fuzzy at the edges, blurring together and spreading a strange sensation from the core of him to the tips of his extremities. It was warm and cooling at the same time, a tingling that made him instantly relax.

_When angels…mate…_

The mental fuzziness was ripped away in a sudden burst of light and clarity, and everything was sharp and focussed like a high definition camera. In the few moments Sam had spent slumped on the ground, he reflected, he really had lost track of how sharp the mind was supposed to be.

"Sam?" Dean chanced, and Sam sucked in a grateful and deep breath, crackling air into his lungs as though for the first time. The fact that the simple act of inhaling no longer hurt was reward enough.

"Did I die?" He asked, the first thought coming to mind as he sat fully upright and rubbed a confused hand through his hair.

"No." The angel standing over the brothers answered for him.

Sam thought he saw an honest-to-God smile linger at the edge of the angel's lips, but it didn't fully form. Looking back to his brother, he became slightly uncomfortable at the look Dean was sending up to Cas. He stared at the angel with pure wonderment, joy and _devotion_…it was nice, he guessed, in a way…but kind of unnerving. Sam suddenly felt like he was intruding on a private moment, simply by sitting on the floor at Castiel's feet beside his own brother.

Also, it was sort of weird for Dean to be looking at Cas like that when they were both drenched in a hell of a lot of Sam's blood.

"Guys?" He interjected, breaking the gaze between them.

"Right, sorry Sam." Dean averted his eyes, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I guess you'll be wanting an explanation?"

"More of an explanation than 'Angel social studies 101', yeah."

.

* * *

.

_2.08AM_

Almost one hour had passed since the events unfolded in the bar. The Winchesters, with help from Castiel, had been transported safely back to their motel room across town where they now sat, awkwardly avoiding eye contact and dancing around the subject they had intended to discuss.

"Cas, it's uh…kinda weird to talk about this when you're standing right there." Sam hoped he didn't hurt the angel's newly-developing feelings.

"I understand." He replied. "Dean still has trouble discussing emotional issues in depth."

"…Thanks, Cas. Really." Dean gave him an exasperated glare, a blush colouring his neck. The angel gave him a longer-than-necessary look, which must have meant something Sam couldn't see, as Dean's expression softened and he smiled warmly in response. Cas departed, leaving the brothers alone.

A silence still hung in the air, and Sam sighed heavily.

"I still don't know why you felt like you couldn't tell me." He offered quietly, as though talking to a fragile mouse. "You didn't exactly explain, earlier."

"It's not that I don't trust you, Sam." Dean began, carefully considering his words. "It's just…you have to admit, it is weird."

"What is?"

Dean stared at his brother.

"This! Me and Cas, being…together. I guess I thought you'd be freaked out or disgusted or…something." He paused, sighing and dipping his head. He leant his elbows on his knees. "I just didn't want things to change because of this."

To Dean's amazement, and a touch of annoyance, Sam huffed a small laugh.

"No offence Dean, but it's not exactly a surprise that you two have ended up together."

"…I'm sorry, what?" Dean's eyebrows knitted together despite his best effort to control them. "It's still weird for _me_ – how's it fair that _you_ get to play the 'it's not weird' card?"

"I'm your brother, asshole. I don't care who you're with, so long as they make you happy. And y'know…they're not likely to want to hex, possess or kill us."

Dean felt himself smile in response. He thought about his hopeful thought in the bar, and it seemed he had received a confirmation – Sam really was okay with this, he could feel it. His brother looked at him the same way he used to, before all this started. He truly was looking out for Dean's happiness; it was clear in his eyes.

He should never have expected anything less from Sammy.

.

* * *

.

_Dean heard the sound somewhere to his right, and he didn't look up. He held the magazine he was pretending to read – Good Housekeeping, of all the fucking things that could have been in Bobby's spare bedroom - and kept his head dipped low in what he hoped came across as nonchalance. _

_The sound of feathers rustling ceased, and the most stifling silence Dean could ever remember feeling gradually drifted over him. He could almost feel Castiel's shamed eyes analysing his every breath._

_At least he hoped the angel felt ashamed. Honestly, after the events two nights ago, anyone else would have the decency to feel disgraced with themselves. _

"_Dean?" The angel finally spoke, and he sounded like he was poorly masking worry. Hearing the undertone in his voice made Dean's stomach clench. He put down the magazine with a defeated sigh and turned to face the angel. Castiel stood in the corner of the room, holding one of his arms across his chest and clutching the opposing elbow in a stance that screamed forced-emotional-distance. He held eye contact with Dean, but his head was dipped low like a subservient animal. Everything about his body language radiated vulnerability and shame. Dean found that he hated that – the most powerful being he knew curling in on himself like a shut-off and fragile thing. It made him almost angry with himself. _

"_Hey, what's up with you? You look like someone just stomped on your puppy."_

_Dean hoped his casual tone was effectively masking his own feelings of awkwardness. He wanted more than anything to feel fine around Cas – to experience none of the raging discomfort he was currently feeling after the angel's drunken display two nights ago. The simple thought that it had probably taken Cas this long to even muster the courage to come and apologise made it marginally easier to handle, rising sympathy mingling with the discomfort._

"_I should apologise to you." _

"_Ok, cutting straight to the point..."_

"_What I did was…highly inappropriate. I consumed a lot of alcohol and I…I lost my bearings on acceptable behaviour. I should not have touched you. Or kissed you. Or suggested that you touch me…"_

_"Cas?" Dean's voice cracked, coming out in a higher pitch and much louder than he intended. He cleared his throat. "It's ok, really. All is forgiven."_

_Dean gave a small smile, and went back to looking at the magazine. He hoped the angel would vanish, but he could still see the coat from the corner of his eye, hovering in the corner. He could feel Castiel's gaze still glued to him. Accepting defeat for a second time, Dean sat the magazine back down and turned so he sat on the edge of the bed, fully facing Castiel. _

_"Cas…It's ok. You can stop looking at me like you're gonna cry, now. I'm not mad."_

_The angel's burning gaze didn't shift. His eyes glistened and for a moment, Dean was afraid his words would become reality and that Castiel might actually cry._

_"You don't understand." _

_The phrase fell timidly from the angel's lips, quiet and unexpected. Suddenly Dean saw something entirely different in Castiel's expression, despite it not changing in the slightest. His mind opened a new door to what he was looking at, and Dean glimpsed the true reason behind the broken stare and eyes tightened with sadness – Castiel was not overcome with shame over his actions; it was the fact that Dean felt the actions needed an apology. _

"_I'm sorry." He uttered again, his eyes betraying his true feelings. He may regret drunkenly throwing himself at Dean in the most inappropriate of ways, but the fact of having to apologise for the feelings behind the behaviour was what was crushing him._

_The implication of the word 'feelings' hit Dean in the gut like a wrecking ball. This could not possibly be happening. Castiel could not – not in a million alternate universes – have _feelings_ for him._

_Castiel's eyes retreated to the floor, and Dean realised he had been staring at him since his realisation. The angel's arm tightened across his body, gripping his left elbow more forcefully like a child with a security blanket. A small frown crept onto his forehead and his feet shifted beneath him. A sharp inhale and shaky exhale moved his chest. _

_Dean felt a pang in his gut all over again, watching the angel practically close himself off before his eyes. Watching this warrior of Heaven being so clearly overwhelmed by feelings he didn't understand – feelings which led him to know hurt, guilt, pain and rejection – it caused a mirroring effect in Dean. He felt his own face contort as he watched Castiel's subtle changes in body language, the clenching in his stomach growing all the more sickening and spreading to his chest. Each one of these emotions was new to the angel, and consequently was probably frightening and surreal and confusing. _

_Dean suddenly identified the churning feeling in his stomach and the tightness in his chest. He'd be damned if he let the angel go through this alone. _

_He stood up with barely any conscious thought and closed the distance between them. Bobby's floorboards creaked under his footsteps as he approached Cas, halting a couple of feet in front of him. _

"_Castiel." The angel seemed taken aback by Dean's use of his full name, as his head raised warily to meet the hunter's eyes. "You don't need to apologise. Ever. Understand?"_

_Castiel seemed to consider this, to drink in Dean's words and try to fit them into everything he thought he knew._

"_No." He simply replied, frowning slightly at the hunter and waiting on further explanation. Dean found himself smiling slightly, as he took in the sight of the bemused, angelic face before him. All his quirks, all the social deficiency, his inability to understand what most humans found innately easy…it was kind of adorable. _

_Dean gripped Castiel's face between his hands and roughly pulled him closer, crashing their lips together messily and eliciting a shocked 'mmpfh!'. Cas' body remained rigid and almost frightened, like a deer caught in the headlights. Dean pulled his face away from the unresponsive mouth. _

"_Now do you understand?" He breathed, searching the wide blue eyes for some sliver of realisation, ignoring the stab of apprehension in his gut. He at least wanted to see a hint that Cas was calming down; he was afraid if his eyes widened any further they might dislodge from his head. _

"_I...but Dean, I was…_drunk_." The word sounded foreign on Castiel's tongue, and he sounded unsure about using it. "People do things they shouldn't do when they're drunk. And you…wanted me to stop, but I didn't…I didn't stop when you asked me to."_

"_I just told you, Cas…" Dean sighed, brushing strands of unruly black hair from the angel's face and instantly feeling like it wasn't within his rights to do so. Cas' eyes minutely widened again at the physical contact. "…it's ok. You're forgiven." Dean smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and despite the flipping in his stomach he let his hand rest on the side of Castiel's face, holding some hair behind his ear. The angel still looked bewildered. "And where did you get this idea that being drunk means you shouldn't do stuff?" _

_Castiel paused, looking into Dean's eyes with slightly less doubt now._

"…_the internet."_

_Dean stifled a laugh as he imagined Castiel trying to use Sam's laptop to Google the effects of alcohol. God knows what websites he ended up on. _

"_Well, uh…" Dean continued, feeling the humorous image giving way to the awkwardness again. He hesitantly moved his left hand up to Castiel's face to cup it on both sides. "-you're allowed to do what you did the other night...y'know, if you want to."_

_This was insane. He was actively encouraging Cas to admit he had…feelings…for him. And to _act_ on them, no less. _

"_If you're giving me permission, Dean…I'd very much like to touch you." _

_Again, Dean felt the nervous apprehension give way to a smirk, amused by the angel's mannerisms. He lowered his hands slowly from Castiel's face. He suddenly realised that he would never get tired of the way Castiel acted as compared to ordinary humans. He found the differences and the social awkwardness interesting to watch, and…sort of nice, in a 'he's special' kind of way…_

_When Castiel's hands landed hesitantly on Dean's chest, nervous and feather-light, he was snapped out of his embarrassingly girlish reverie. His eyes found the angel's; they were cautious and desperately searching, praying that he wasn't doing anything wrong and looking terrified that at any moment Dean might slap his hands away and admonish him._

_Dean placed his own hands gently over Castiel's, reassuring him that the touch was allowed and welcomed._

_Still holding eye contact until the last possible second, and continuing to move painfully slowly to make his intentions clear, Castiel leaned forward. His face was closing in on Dean's neck, a wholly sober and more apprehensive reinterpretation of the events that had unfolded in Bobby's kitchen. Dean was just grateful he wouldn't have to watch for signs of Cas tilting and swaying under the influence this time. _

_Lips made contact with his neck, so soft and warm and gentle, and it felt exactly as it had two nights previously. This time around, however, Dean allowed himself to admit that he enjoyed the feeling. He cautiously opened his mind up to the reality that yes, his heart had hammered harder behind his ribs, as it did now. His stomach had flipped nervously inside him, and his pulse had jumped erratically. His body was reacting in exactly the same way, and he accepted it._

_Dean observed with interest that he wasn't at all disgusted or terrified of the fact he was engaging in definitely-more-than-friendly contact with another male body. This was new and bizarre and possibly going to create some very incomprehensible shifts in their group dynamic, but he couldn't find it in himself to mind all that much – not with soft, warm lips caressing his pulse point. The thing that surprised him most about this situation was how entirely okay he seemed to be with it all – he was forcing down the fear and the hesitancy was vanishing with it, giving way to acceptance and a rewarding feeling in his brain and the warmth of the solid body pressed between him and the wall, and…_

_Dean realised he didn't remember when the hell it had happened, but he had well and truly trapped Cas against the wall with his own weight and was craning his neck upwards, submitting more of himself to Castiel's suckling mouth. The angel seemed more than happy to respond, moving his lips over Dean's throat with open-mouthed and wet enthusiasm. His tongue, now confident as though drunk all over again, danced over stubble and accompanied his lips in sucking deliciously at the hunter's skin._

_Hot breath ghosted across Dean's skin as lips detached themselves, and he felt a hand grasp his face. With fingers cupping behind his ear, Dean felt his head be yanked downwards to meet the mouth that had worshipped his neck like some sort of holy artefact. A thrill shot through him at Castiel's new-found confidence…and just maybe there was a touch of pride there, too. _

_More than willing, Dean moved his lips eagerly against Castiel's, not caring that the kiss was sloppy and desperate and that the angel was inexperienced at this – he just felt like he needed so much more, and that he would go to any length to get it. _

_Mirroring Cas' grip on his face, Dean reached up and cupped the angel's head in his hands for a second time, fingers desperately clinging to his scalp and thumbs stroking the sides of his face. Without warning, Cas detached his lips and moved, swiftly clamping onto Dean's earlobe before he could process the movement. _

_Dean inhaled sharply and exhaled in a shuddery groan as he felt Castiel suck on the skin there, then kiss below his ear, nuzzle into his neck again and breathe in his scent…_

"_Cas…" Dean found he had trouble speaking and breathing at the same time. "Do you…do you know what you want, here? I need you to tell me."_

_Castiel gazed at Dean, confused but no longer bewildered. He looked utterly wrecked already; drunk on lust and probably detached from anything Dean might say to him._

"_Cas?" He prompted. "I need you to tell me what you want." Dean encouraged him with his eyes, stroking a thumb across his cheek and searching for recognition in the eyes before him. It was easy to see Castiel was practically overcome by arousal, but for all Dean knew, he was unaware of what this entailed. He barely knew how to speak to other humans, let alone have extensive knowledge of what they did behind closed doors. Dean was not about to take advantage of a naïve being, ethereal or not._

"_You mean…intercourse?" _

_Dean did not like the tone of Castiel's voice, or the way his head subconsciously dipped slightly. His voice and mannerisms hid doubt and apprehension, creeping back from before they began this, whatever _this_ was. _

"_Hey, hey," Dean reassured, using his hand to raise the head of the angel to meet his gaze. "What happened to confident Cas, hmm?" He hoped this sounded calming, but judging by the look on Castiel's face, it was taken as chastisement. He instantly wanted nothing more than to ease the angel's ill feelings, and found himself willing to do anything to comfort him. The thought scared him._

"_It's ok. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." _

_Ten minutes ago, Dean reflected, he was just as terrified and nervous as Castiel, pushing himself to make the first move through his haze of doubt…how the hell had he become the voice of reason and experience?_

"_It's not that I don't want to." Castiel's eyes dipped away to the floor again. _

"_If it's an experience thing, don't feel bad – I've never done this either. Well, with another guy…" Dean felt himself grow uncomfortable. "We can just…figure stuff out as we go along."_

"_It's not that either, Dean." The angel was beginning to sound exasperated and frustrated. Dean frowned. "Angels…we don't take coupling lightly. Not like humans do."_

"So we're a slutty race, is that it?" Dean faked mock offence with a smile, trying to put Cas at ease. The angel ignored his joke.

"_Dean…once angels have forged that bond…we are mated for life." _

_Dean supposed he should feel guilty for the stab of fear and alarm that shot through him._

…


	9. Chapter 9

**Ok, so for some reason the previous chapter is appearing entirely in bold. I have no idea why it looks this way to me, because I checked the chapter before I posted it to ensure it was in italics in appropriate sections – no bold was anywhere to be seen except in my author's note at the top of the page. No bold in the main chapter content anywhere….and yet there it is, just appearing from nowhere. Sorry, you might think it's trivial but it really pisses me off. Anyway, on with the story.**

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_Dean stood in silence, still cupping Castiel's face with one hand, letting the words sink in._

_For life._

"_So you guys are what, like…swans?" Castiel stared back at him, unamused. "What happens if you, y'know…and then…"_

_"We die."_

_The ease at which Castiel uttered the words made Dean feel sick._

_"You…die?" The alarm he had attempted to keep hidden was rampaging to the surface. "Why would you die?"_

"_The bond is far stronger than any emotional connection forged by humans." Castiel explained. "There is a tethering of grace, a bonding of the very souls within the vessels." Dean's gawping was interrupted by a new thought._

"_But I'm…not an angel, Cas. My body's not a vessel and I don't have you guys' grace….would it still be the same?" _

_Castiel frowned, looking pensive and frustrated. "I am unsure…most likely, we would both remain affected in the ways of our own species. That is to say, I would perish at your death, but you would not be affected by mine."_

_Dean was surprised to feel his chest flinch at those words._

"_I tend to disagree with that last part, Cas."_

_His words seemed to spark something behind Castiel's eyes; the pupils dilated to encompass that beautiful sea of blue, and something sparkled there in the depths of his sharp gaze._

"_I want you, Dean. I have always wanted you. It is simply a question of….you wanting me in return."_

_Dean saw a possible future flash before his eyes with such vividness he wondered if the angel was projecting the images into his mind. A life like the one he lived now, but he was older, as was Sam, and…he had Cas. A life lived out with an angel at his side; supporting him, loyally following him, learning from him and…loving him. They would sit on the bonnet of the Impala, parked in some anonymous field and staring at the beautiful night sky as Cas described the creation of the stars to Dean; Dean would teach him to drive, and although it would take so little time for Cas to pick up the simple workings of the human invention, he would allow Dean to teach him as though he were the average learning human, just to spend as much time as possible seeing Dean's face light up when he spoke about the car. Cas would develop an amusing love for cheeseburgers, and insist on eating them despite no necessity to sustain himself with food, to the point where Sam would automatically purchase an extra one at fast food stop-offs._

_They would come to learn everything there was to know about each other, through trial and error and talking into the early morning and happening to notice the little things; like the way Dean's eyes sparkled every time someone mentioned John Winchester, or how Castiel reacted when Dean gave him complete control over his body – they had a lifetime of moments to learn._

_At the moment of his death, an old man living his last few years in an inherited house in an inherited scrap yard, Dean would gaze at the face of the one who had changed his life; who had shown him what it could feel like to be completed by another person, and he would smile as his eyes slipped peacefully closed. The memories of their life together would dance in his head, and he would laugh at the cliché as the ever-present angel, not aged a day since he took over Jimmy Novak's body, stroked his hair into eternal sleep. Cas would know in this moment that his own death would soon follow, but he would not mind. He had lived a good life with Dean; this humble human who completed him in ways he didn't know to be possible. He knew there was nothing to feel sorrowful about; Dean would simply wait for him on the other side, perhaps re-taking the form of his younger self – the appearance he had sported when they had first embarked on their life together. He would lay down beside Dean, stroking gently over his chest, patiently waiting._

_Dean was snapped back to the present; to the events that may well unfold before him in a matter of seconds. He thought of the life he had just witnessed; a life he could create in this very moment if he so desired. The outcome was one he held sole control over…all he had to do was reach out and take it. _

_It seemed like the most natural thing in the world when Dean moved forward, once again claiming the mouth of the angel with his own, making his intentions perfectly clear._

_The strangled mewl that would have escaped Castiel's mouth – had it not been attached to Dean's so forcefully – was enough to make the hunter's legs feel weak and useless. The sound was wrought with surprise, lust and relief; so much relief that Dean imagined the angel must feel light headed. All traces of his own fear and apprehension had long-since vanished, Dean noted with interest. He felt a confident thrumming in his veins, his blood singing with need and want and - dare he think it – completeness. The overwhelming burn of hope in his chest was something unrivalled in his life; hope that this could work, and could make him feel whole for the first time in his existence._

_Castiel, for all his newly-found confidence, let his hands trail at the hem of Dean's t-shirt with a touch that was deceptively gentle and slow, barely masking insistent impatience. Dean felt the pads of the angel's fingers brush the skin just underneath, and he quickly pulled the shirt upwards with head-spinning eagerness in response to the unspoken question. Castiel leant back slightly in surprise, giving Dean space to remove the shirt and toss it aside. Dean watched in amusement as Castiel's face went through a myriad of changes; after the momentary shock at Dean's sudden shirtless-ness subsided, his eyes hooded slightly and his gaze dipped away from Dean's to rove over his newly exposed torso. Dean was unsure if Castiel was aware of his tongue wetting his lips before disappearing again, or if he knew that his breathing had become marginally more unsteady. He felt himself smirk in equal measures of amusement and endearment, with a little added self-satisfaction. _

"_Cas?" Dean asked, unable to keep the smirk from his face and feeling entirely more at ease now. "You ok there?" _

_Seemingly snapping out of a dream, Castiel's eyes lifted towards Dean's again; released from the spell-like hold of his half-nakedness. Before Dean could ask him again, Castiel had moved back in, intent on resuming any kind of physical contact with the man before him. Cas' lips attacked Dean's at the same moment that his hands, to Dean's surprise, worked their way into his hair and planted themselves there firmly. He felt the angel grip his scalp and pull his face impossibly closer with burning desperation, as though he wanted to consume Dean's very soul. _

_Dean used his own initiative and reached for Cas' coat; he was still wearing way too many layers by comparison. He chuckled as Castiel shrugged off the coat urgently, all the while straining to keep their mouths connected. He hurriedly shed his shirt as soon as the coat had dropped to the floor, and Dean heard the distinct 'plink' sound of one dislodged button hitting the wall. The sound of Cas' frustrated fumbling with his belt soon followed._

"_Why don't you speed things up a bit? Y'know, angel mojo?" He smiled against Castiel's neck and kissed the spot below his ear, letting his hands wander encouragingly around the back of the angel's slacks._

_His hands suddenly encountered warm, naked flesh; pliant and soft, cupped in his palms. _

_Woah._

_He hadn't expected Castiel to obey him so readily; undressing each other was all part of the fun, and he was mostly just teasing. Would Cas blindly do anything he asked of him? The thought made Dean feel partially unsettled – he wasn't entirely comfortable with having all the power over another person that such a position implied. But another part of him twitched in nervous excitement at the thought of Cas doing anything he was told to do…he tried not to feel guilty for the stab of lust the thought elicited. _

"_Dean?" Castiel's voice had grown wary and questioning in the wake of his silence, and the feeling of panic rose in Dean again; the feeling that he would do anything to dissipate any discomfort Castiel felt, no questions asked. It made his head spin._

"_I'm fine Cas, really. It just…takes some getting used to."_

_"You do not want to be naked?"_

_"No! I mean, yes, I do…I really do. Just, give me a second."_

_Castiel's hands began to retreat from Dean's head, trailing down his neck and coming to rest on his chest. His eyes searched Dean's, ever-questioning and hopeful. Dean flexed the hands he had been keeping stationary on Cas' ass, kneading the flesh experimentally. Cas breathed a sigh, keeping his eyes on Dean's. Dean didn't stop Castiel's hand when it trailed downwards, his curiosity wondering just how far the angel would go without direction. He smiled in encouragement, allowing his body to do most of the talking. Cas took his erection hesitantly in one hand and began stroking agonizingly slowly. His grip was gentle and unsure, but Dean let out a sigh of relief at the contact. He didn't realise how much he had craved this touch until he actually had it, standing naked and willing right in front of him. _

_Dean moved in on Castiel to crowd him against the wall once again, the angel struggling backwards under his direction but successfully maintaining their contact. Dean moved his hand between their bodies and enveloped Castiel's, both hands intertwined and stroking him in unison, almost trapped between their heated skin. Dean leaned forward and breathed heavily against Castiel's shoulder, pressing his unoccupied hand desperately to the wall at the side of the angel's head. Cas' grip became firmer under Dean's direction, and Dean removed his own hand to join the other on the wall, trapping Castiel against it on all sides with his body and arms. Cas' strokes became more confident and fluid against his skin, every stroke eliciting a sharp intake of breath and a jolt down his spine. _

_Dean raised his head from Castiel's shoulder and captured his lips again, allowing an uninhibited moan to seep into the angel's mouth at a particularly strong jolt of pleasure._

"_Cas…unh…yes…" _

_Dean felt the need to come rising in him, spreading from his core throughout his body until he was seconds from letting go, from…_

_Castiel suddenly released Dean's erection from his grip, allowing it to spring free, needy and weeping. _

_Dean's eyes shot open with a gasp and he stared, disbelieving, at the angel in front of him. Cas stared back, evaluating every movement of Dean's face, calculating his reaction._

"_I thought you enjoyed this type of delayed gratification?" Cas questioned in response to Dean's quiet stare. _

"_You…you did watch me that time in the shower, didn't you? The whole time?" _

_A furious blush crept up Castiel's neck at the realisation of what he had inadvertently confirmed. His eyes dipped to the floor in embarrassment as the blush reached his cheeks and in response, Dean felt his own skin prickle with quite a different brand of heat. _

"_I'm sorry, I should have left…"_

"_You weren't embarrassed because of what I was doing…you were only embarrassed because you got caught…enjoying it?" _

"…_Yes." Cas' voice sounded hoarse like he had forgotten how to speak, like the remembered memory of watching Dean pleasure himself was making his mouth dry, and it made Dean's pulse twitch. _

"_There'll be plenty of time for 'delayed gratification' later, Cas. Now? Not so much." _

_No sooner had a tense 'understood' fallen from Castiel's lips, they crashed together again. Dean pressed him roughly to the wall, while Castiel grabbed his shoulder and head, pulling him painfully closer. Dean rutted gracelessly against Castiel's naked body, curiosity winning out over nervousness in his quest to feel as much skin on skin as humanly – or angelicly - possible. Feeling certain parts of Cas, solid and throbbing against his thigh, was doing very unanticipated things to Dean's own body. It didn't scare him in the slightest, as he thought it would, but instead he felt himself aching to touch the angel, to feel the very _maleness_ of his vessel in every way he could possibly dream of. He didn't care what this meant for his sexuality, or his reputation, or what Sam would think if he found out about this…all Dean wanted was this; all of it, anything and everything that Castiel was prepared to offer him._

_Dean let out a surprised gasp when Castiel fell to his knees in front of him and kissed his thigh tenderly, placing a palm on the adjacent thigh to steady his shaking legs. _

"_Woah, Cas…what are you doing?"_

_Castiel glanced up at him for a second through a thick blanket of eyelashes, before he lowered his head again and began sucking a bruise into Dean's inner thigh. "I've continued watching pornography. You expressed distaste about that, but I find it to be of some interest."_

_Dean couldn't begin to articulate how wrong Castiel was about his 'distaste' for porn, but his brain shut off all ability to argue when Cas began placing teasing, tentative licks to the head of his cock, using his tongue to flick across the tip and caress the underside. With the surprised moan that followed spurring him onwards, Castiel took almost the full length of Dean into his mouth and throat, skilfully managing not to choke. Dean closed his eyes and let his head fall back, relishing in the new sensations; the occasional scrape of stubble against his thigh, the firm grip of masculine fingers on his leg to steady him, the low-pitch groans that periodically escaped the throat he currently occupied. He felt Castiel's breath tickle along his shaft as he moved, ghosting over the saliva-slicked skin with every slide of his head. _

_A sound came from below him, Castiel's mouth humming briefly around his cock and jolting him out of his reverie to look down. Castiel looked up at him…disapprovingly? Dean frowned, his eyes questioning and his breathing erratic. Cas pulled his mouth away, and Dean felt like his world might end from the loss of the exquisite feeling._

"_Don't look away from me." The angel's voice had changed; it was charged, powerful and commanding, slightly roughened from its current activities. Dean's dick jumped in response, surprising him. "I want to see you."_

_Dean nodded, words failing him, and he let out a low groan as Castiel's mouth returned to where he wanted it most. He fought the urge to let his head loll backwards, keeping eye contact with the angel while he sucked him down. He let one hand rest in the mussed raven hair, stroking it in appreciation and resisting the compulsion to grab and pull._

_It was now entirely unsurprising to Dean that he was being pushed violently towards his orgasm by simply holding eye contact with Castiel. With each breathy sigh and low moan, Cas would reward him with an encouraging squeeze to the thigh, or by enclosing his teeth with his lips and creating more pressure, or a myriad of other tiny little actions that made Dean's toes curl and his insides tighten. _

"_Cas…fuck, Cas…I'm gonna come."_

_Castiel gently cupped Dean's ass, his other hand leaving its position on Dean's thigh to grasp the base of his shaft and squeeze firmly. He moved his head with more speed and sucked fiercely, his hand and mouth working in tandem to send Dean careering into his orgasm with a pained groan and a full-body shudder. It was only when Dean opened his eyes and looked back to the floor that he realised he had looked away. Castiel sucked him down gently, almost tenderly, and released him with a wet smacking sound. He didn't pull away or stand up, instead opting to stay kneeling at Dean's feet, resting his cheek on the hunter's thigh and stroking the back of his leg affectionately. _

"_Sorry, for looking away." Dean murmured, his hand once again running through Castiel's hair. _

"_It's ok." The angel replied, his breath and hair-coarse cheek brushing Dean's thigh. Without looking up, he muttered quietly and shyly into Dean's leg. "You were beautiful." _

_Dean pulled away and sat on the floor, his back resting against the wall and his legs stretched out lazily in front of him. He parted them slightly and beckoned for Cas to come closer. At the angel's confused look, he sighed and patted his thigh. _

"_Come." _

_Again, Cas instantly obeyed, crawling the short distance between them and turning around to sit on the floor between Dean's parted legs, his back to the hunter's chest. He didn't need prompted to lie back against him and relax, and Dean realised this made him happy. Dean repositioned his arms to wrap around Castiel's body, and shifted his knees higher to enclose him. His right hand crept around and began languidly stroking Castiel's still very-present erection. The soft moans and shaking breaths coming from the angel under his careful attention were a greater gift to his ears than the sweetest of symphonies. He swallowed every almost-groan and breathy gasp, rewarding them with a constant stream of slow, wet kisses up and down his neck. _

_Dean relished the fact that he was the one pulling these desperate sounds and full-body shivers from the angel; that he was the only one who had ever done this to Castiel. If he had any say in the matter, he would be the only one to ever interact with him this way – no way was he going to share this with anyone, ever. _

_When Castiel found his release and his body shuddered, it was with a sound that almost implied shyness, and Dean found he liked this - a bizarre juxtaposition with the qualities he usually sought out in sexual partners. He held the angel gently, stroking absent-mindedly down the length of his torso and allowing his fingers to dance through the splashes that now decorated his stomach and chest. He felt Cas' breathing gradually return to normal. Dean watched Castiel shift until he had adopted a more side-on position, nuzzling further into his Dean-cocoon. Dean felt soft breath tickle his neck and collarbone, comfortable and sated. He was pleased to admit he felt exactly the same as Castiel looked; limp, satisfied and content. He raised a hand to stroke the dark hair beneath him, his other arm draped across Castiel's body and holding him in place._

_Moments after Castiel's content sigh and a soft kiss to Dean's collarbone, the sound of Bobby's front door opening echoed up the stairs and along the hall, disrupting their drowsy haze. _

"_Christ." Dean hissed, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation and shifting his body. _

"_Dean?" Castiel questioned, raising himself away from his resting spot to allow the hunter to shuffle out from under his weight. Dean stood up off the floor and ran a hand through his hair, before holding out the hand for Castiel and helping him up. Cas accepted and stood up to meet Dean's eyes, questioning and confused. _

"_I don't want them to find out about this…about us. Not yet." Castiel frowned. "Well…certainly not like this." Dean gestured with his hands to indicate their nakedness, but Castiel didn't smile. _

"_Are you ashamed?" _

_Dean's stomach plummeted and without much conscious thought he stepped forward, clutching Castiel by the shoulders and holding him steady. _

"_Listen to me – I am _not_ ashamed of you, ok? I just…need some time."_

_Castiel seemed to ponder this for a moment, before nodding his head solemnly. Dean still couldn't shake the feeling that Castiel was taking this as a rejection. He pulled the angel towards him into a tight embrace and began stroking the back of his neck. He spoke softly into Cas' hair. "I don't want you to leave, believe me. But we'll have more times like this - I promise." Castiel made a small 'hmm' sound of acceptance into Dean's shoulder. _

"_I'll see you…tomorrow?" Dean searched the angel's face for a hint that he wasn't feeling let down and dismissed. _

_A tiny smile, weak and hiding disappointment, passed Castiel's lips. Dean leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against that sad smile, willing it to vanish._

_The lips beneath him disappeared after a few seconds and he was left leaning into thin air. He scrambled for his jeans and as he pulled them back on, he tried to reassure himself that he wasn't the world's biggest asshole._


	10. Chapter 10

**I get the feeling this is the chapter a lot of you have been waiting for… if you know what I mean ;)**

**but seriously, please let me know how I did!**

_5.02AM_

Sam woke with a mangled shout, his hands flying to his chest without conscious thought and clawing there, feeling his own skin frantically. He felt sweat lash from a tendril of hair as he thrashed, sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck in uncomfortable wet clumps. His nerves buzzed and he felt sick with the fading memory.

"It's ok." A voice hushed him in the darkness. "You won't come to any harm."

In the dark, Sam's vision gradually started to focus and his hectic breathing slowed. He never had nightmares, not about any of his injuries, but the phantom pain of the angel blade being ripped from his chest and the image of Castiel leaping on him and closing the wound – it assaulted him in sleep.

The source of the voice revealed itself, sitting in a chair parked politely by the bedside. How long had he been sitting there? Sam reflected that he had definitely been alone when he first went to bed.

"Cas…what are you doing here?"

The angel leaned closer to Sam, allowing him to see the deep sorrow in the angel's eyes and the heavy guilt he carried in his frown. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry this happened to you."

"Does Dean know you're here?" Sam asked, his sleep-draped voice still containing traces of nightmarish alarm. Castiel raised two fingers towards Sam's face and swept them lightly across his forehead, and instantly, Sam felt engulfed by peace. A white light radiated behind his eyelids, and he was more than happy to chase it. It was leading him somewhere beautiful and calm, and he revelled in the knowledge it would bring him into a sleep unpunctuated by dreams.

"No." the angel answered. Sam didn't hear him.

.

* * *

.

_Castiel appeared suddenly and silently, not bothering with his standard greeting to Dean. He figured Dean would notice him._

_It was hard not to notice when a man appeared directly behind you in the shower. _

_Dean yelped with shock when the back of his arm touched something solid and he partially spun around, almost slipping on the wet floor of the bath he stood in. He braced himself against the tiled wall for support, everything slippery and coated with grime. Recognition sparked in his eyes and he let out a relieved sigh as the remainder of adrenaline pumped through him._

"_Christ, Cas! You almost gave me a heart attack!"_

_The angel flinched at the blasphemy, disapproving. Dean hurriedly apologised. "What the hell are you doing? That angel mojo would sure come in handy for stalking people."_

"_You're alone, and not at Bobby's. We can talk now."_

"_Well…right now I'm in the shower, Cas. Maybe when I'm done." The angel's face contorted in disappointment and Dean felt his stomach lurch._

_He had been avoiding this 'talk' since their first fumbled encounter in Bobby's spare bedroom, (exactly 9 days and 8 hours ago) and not from lack of Castiel trying. Since then, Sam and he had stayed in various motels along the I90, as usual, but a major change had been added to Dean's itinerary – when Sam and Bobby were otherwise occupied, Castiel would immediately make an appearance quite different in nature to the meetings they previously shared. _

_Dean didn't realise how difficult it was to get time away from the others until his situation had drastically changed to call upon it. Castiel would only appear to Dean when they were definitely busy on errands and not likely to come home in a hurry - something Dean was quite insistent on. Dean would only allow Castiel these meetings on the premise that he not tell anyone about them, in any way. He was very specific about that, and it made Castiel's chest feel strangely heavy. Of course, he wanted these moments alone just as much as Castiel did, but he constantly reminded the angel of the 'conditions' as though he could give them up if he felt the need._

_Deep down, a part of Dean acknowledged that he probably never could._

"_Another day avoiding talking, Dean?" He was taken aback by the angel's forceful tone. "You owe it to me. When will you tell them?"_

_"Don't rush me, Cas." Dean ran the bar of soap over his arms and chest, facing the jet and away from Castiel._

"_What do you think would come of telling them?" Castiel was beginning to sound angry now. "Do you think they would think less of you?" _

_Dean ignored the angry tone, rubbing hands through his hair with his back to Cas and tipping his head under the stream to wash out the resultant lather. _

_A closed fist slammed against the wall by the side of Dean's head, thin spidery cracks like webbing spreading over the tiles in every direction. A few pieces of tile fell from the hole and landed in the bath with cracking and crumbling sounds. Dean stood, frozen in surprise, rigid as a post and not daring to turn around. He had never been afraid of Castiel before, and he refused to give his current feeling that label._

_Castiel withdrew his fist quickly, possibly from shock at what he had done – Dean didn't know, he couldn't see his face. He saw more pieces of tile be dislodged by the movement, cracking against the others as they landed. Inside the hole were patches of powdery paste, held together by plaster dust and droplets of blood. Dean turned slowly, suddenly very aware of his nakedness, to face the angel. Castiel cradled his own hand, a small amount of blood trickling from the knuckles. He cradled his fist not to protect his own superficial injury, but for the same reason he had not yet healed himself; the shock and dread was evident on his face. _

"_Cas, it's ok…" Dean took a step towards him with a hesitantly outstretched hand, but Castiel took a step backwards, almost tripping in the tight space. Dean withdrew his hand slowly and stared at the angel, at a loss for what to do if he didn't want touched. "You didn't mean it. You didn't hurt me." His words fell on deaf ears; Castiel looked terrified, his eyes blown wide like a deer caught in headlights. He looked about ready to disappear and it made Dean panic. He didn't want Castiel to leave, he couldn't let him. _

_Dean lunged forward and grasped Castiel, only now noticing that he was soaked through from standing in the shower in his usual attire. He gripped around his shoulders, squeezing and holding him firmly. He knew that if the angel really wanted to vanish he still could, nothing could stop him from going; he just hoped to somehow communicate the strength of his wish for Cas to stay, and hoped that this would be enough. After several moments the sodding angel was still within his grasp. _

"_You would never hurt me, Cas. I know you wouldn't." He hated these serious moments. It took a certain amount of willpower to over-ride his natural urge to turn to humour all the time, but given that Castiel understood very few human jokes and comic references, Dean had to force himself to console him when he worried, to reassure him when things felt wrong._

"_I…" Castiel abandoned his reply. _

_Dean kissed the side of Castiel's head, feeling the soaked hair beneath his lips. He took a step backward, still holding Cas at arms' length to examine him. He would look almost comical if it weren't for the tone of the moment; a man standing fully clothed in a suit and coat, in a shower and looking miserable. Instead, Dean felt a mingling of sympathy and affection, and a sadness reflecting Castiel's own – something he had found to be happening more frequently every day; a strange mirroring of the angel's emotions whenever they were together._

_"Shhh, calm down. I'm fine." Dean squeezed Castiel's shoulders with a soft smile, reassuring him. He gently touched the cuts on Cas' knuckles, and the angel willed them to heal under Dean's fingertips._

_Castiel looked up to meet his eyes, water droplets leaving his eyelashes in thick clumps and falling onto his cheeks. Dean removed one hand from Cas' shoulder and smoothed the wet hair away from his face. He cursed himself for the feeling of lust that suddenly spiked in him as he gazed at the angel, soaking to the skin and dripping everywhere, looking so vulnerable in contrast to his power. Naked, there was nothing Dean could do to hide his arousal. _

_Cas still seemed unable or unwilling to let go of his guilt. His eyes dropped briefly downwards before returning to Dean's again - hooded with lust and searching for a response in Cas._

"_Dean…" He began, and Dean really didn't like his tone. _

"_I'm fine Cas, honest. Don't I look fine to you?" Dean moved forward and pulled Cas closer, guiding one of the angel's hands downwards to brush against his erection. He leaned in and waited for Cas to respond, kissing his neck with gentle but open-mouthed enthusiam. One hand found the side of Cas' neck, holding him carefully in place while he kissed across his throat, the other running fingers lightly up and down his back over the drenched coat that clung to him._

_Dean felt a spike of victory shoot through him when Cas finally responded, his clothes vanishing from under Dean's patient hands and revealing his bare skin to the soothing water jets. Dean took this as permission and felt himself be spurred onwards, steering Cas' head forcefully so their mouths collided. He groaned softly against the angel's lips and worked his fingers through drenched hair, smoothing it back and clutching at it. _

_Castiel was touching him without being prompted now, steady progress being made in the confidence department with every one of their meetings. Dean ripped back the shower curtain while straining to keep his mouth attached to Castiel's, and only pulled away to drag him into the bedroom and towards the bed he had claimed that morning. Castiel obediently followed, allowing himself to be guided towards the mattress under an encouraging flurry of touches, kisses and groans. _

_Dean fell backwards and pulled Cas on top of him, an action he would have found mortifying mere weeks ago. He continued kissing his neck, running his hands down the angel's back and stroking the rise of his ass with just the tips of his fingers. Castiel sighed as Dean's lips worked the skin over his pulse, the edge of his jaw and back down over his throat. He had long since closed his eyes, rarely opening them in favour of savouring the sensations. Dean's legs parted slightly more and allowed Cas to sink closer to his body, attentive parts of his vessel pressing against Dean in the most intimate of ways. _

_Castiel stiffened like he was suddenly made of granite and pulled away from Dean with lightning speed. He perched at the end of the bed, looking shut-off. _

"_Cas, come _on_!" Dean, propped up on his elbows in response to the angel's hasty retreat, let his body drop back down onto the mattress in exasperation. He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, facing the ceiling. _

"_Dean, I…I'm sorry. We discussed this." _

"_No, we've not. Not really. All I keep hearing is speculative bullshit." Dean didn't bother looking at the angel; he had already memorised the exact expression that he knew would be playing on his face right now._

"_I've told you before," Castiel continued softly; timidly, "I don't want to hurt you. And I could, if I…if we did that. I could cause you excessive physical harm, quite without meaning to..."_

"_Y'know what I think?" Dean started, feeling his anger rising. "I think you're ashamed, Cas. You're ashamed of what we're doing because you can't let go of what you guys are supposed to be. Angels don't go slutting it up with humans, do they? Is that it?"_

_"Dean, please..." Castiel's voice shrank under the weight of Dean's sorrowful anger._

"_Or maybe you don't give a shit about the way angels are supposed to behave. Maybe the other angels don't care what you do either…maybe it's just that you don't want this. Not fully. What was it you said? You guys mate for life? That's a big commitment, I get it. If that's what it is, Cas…if you can't 'be' with me that way because you don't want to be stuck with it forever? I'd rather you just said it instead of going all sulk-fest and mumbling some shit about accidentally killing me."_

_Dean took a pause, only now realising he needed breath. He felt guilt start to creep up his neck; a particularly sensitive subject for Castiel was questioning his commitment and loyalty. He knew on some level that the angel would never leave him willingly, and that being bound by the bond forged in mating wasn't necessary to prove their commitment to each other; it wasn't like they had to run off and get married to prove they cared, for Christ's sake…_

_Still, it was something he yearned for. No matter what his rational mind told him was necessary or not necessary, Dean's chest still constricted at the thought of never physically having that full bond. He softened his tone._

"_Look, Cas. I've…I've given up a lot for you. I've changed how I see…well, how I see everything, pretty much." _

_Castiel sat motionless at the foot of the bed, listening but unmoving. He rested with his arms on his thighs, a remarkably human posture, staring at the bathroom door blankly. Dean shifted down the bed towards him cautiously, as though wary of spooking an animal. He came to a halt kneeling behind Castiel and wove his arms slowly under the angel's own, bringing them up and around his chest, gently embracing him from behind in a gesture of comfort and reassurance. He always felt the need to soothe the wounds after an argument, even to some extent before they had embarked on their strange relationship. _

"_I don't regret any of it. You know that, right?" Dean almost whispered into the conch of Castiel's ear, followed by a brief and barely-there touch of lips, still holding him. He was relieved when Cas nodded. _

"_I have an idea. A compromise." He continued, ever wary of Castiel's minute changes in posture and the way he reacted to every word. "Will you hear me out?" _

_The moments of silence that followed made Dean's stomach twitch with disappointment, until he heard a tense, whispered 'yes'. He thought about how to proceed without scaring Castiel off, choosing his wording carefully. _

"_You're worried about hurting me, right? If we were to…"_

_"-have intercourse."_

_Dean cringed. "Yes, Cas…just, let me talk. You're worried you would hurt me – I get that, really. But…I couldn't hurt you, right? So…what would you say to…me being in control?"_

_Castiel finally turned to look at Dean again, and the hunter waited patiently for him to digest the words. _

_"Both parties are involved equally."_

_Dean swore that sometimes Cas went to lengths to deliberately make him uncomfortable._

"_Let me rephrase it." He said carefully, pointedly laying a hand on Castiel's thigh and watching his eyes. "I'd be giving, and you would be…receiving." After a moment, during which Castiel's eyes travelled from the hand on his leg back up to Dean's gaze, the angel showed signs of understanding._

"_You want to be…" he paused, considering the wording of the phrase. _'…on top'_?" _

_Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well, yeah, essentially. But I understand if you don't want to go that way. I mean, you should only say 'no' if it's because _you_feel weird about it…like the whole Biblical-sodomy angle or something, not the 'hurting me' thing. You wouldn't hurt me. I mean, you wouldn't…"_

_"-Ok."_

_Dean paused mid-ramble, not sure if he heard the correct word being spoken. He had a hell of a lot more speech-material lined up, there was no way Cas could be agreeing to it this easily…_

"_Dean? Have I misunderstood you?"_

"_No! No…I just…I didn't expect you to agree, that's all." Dean felt a smile cross his face. Castiel frowned. "You've just been fighting me on this for days now. I thought you'd still be attached to the whole 'fragile Dean' idea." He teasingly squeezed Castiel's thigh, causing him to jump slightly as though he had forgotten Dean's hand was on him at all. _

"_You raised a valid point. I estimate that I'd be much less likely to inflict any damage on you from a submissive position." _

_Dean felt very little guilt at the fierce stab of lust shooting down his spine._

_._

* * *

_._

"_Are you sure you want to do this, Cas?" Dean panted, having just come up for air after kissing, licking and sucking his way down the entire length of the angel's body and back to his mouth again. Small bruises had been sucked into his inner thighs, the skin above his hipbones pinkened from teasing bites, sensitive bundles of nerves licked and sucked raw until Castiel writhed and gripped the sheets in desperate need. Dean's skin burned with anticipation. "You can still say no."_

_The thought of Cas backing out now almost filled Dean with dread and panic, but the angel shook his head frantically. Dean felt reassured at the desperate gesture; the almighty angel, usually so controlled and methodical, reduced to a quivering, begging creature under his attention. No way would Castiel refuse this now, not looking like he was; panting, squirming with the need to release and aching between his legs like he had never known before. Dean's hardness pressed smoothly to his cleft, curious and silently asking for permission to explore._

_With their chests pressed tightly together, Dean could feel the angel's heart beating against his ribs, thudding through the skin and mingling with the frantic rhythm of his own. Their sweat combined, their pulses raced each other. Dean leaned close to Castiel's face, drinking in the moment and finding himself desperate to hold onto it. He wanted to memorise every detail of right now, to be able to replay it over and over in future to the best of his mind's ability; this was the first time he would experience this, and first times happen only once. _

"_Dean…" Castiel's voice was wrecked and low - begging. "Please…" He stopped attempting to voice his needs, instead opting for simply grabbing at Dean's lower back and pulling, forcing the hunter closer to the space between his legs. "Just…" No further words followed, Cas appearing unable to string a coherent plea together. The desperation in his voice spurred Dean onwards, although he made a mental note and filed 'teasing' away for later referral. Dean raised his index and middle finger to Castiel's mouth, and felt an instantaneous reaction shoot to his dick when the angel eagerly sucked on them without a thought. _

_How much porn is he watching?_

_Dean reclaimed his fingers and leaned close again, capturing Cas' lips in a searing kiss as he slid one digit inside slowly, carefully. A muffled 'mmph' sounded against his lips and he felt Castiel's body tighten around his finger. Dean kissed Cas slowly and gently as he worked inside him, perfectly matching the speed and softness in the kiss with the strokes of his finger. When he felt the tightness begin to relax he added the second slicked digit, encouraging Cas as he did so by cupping the side of his face with his free hand, kissing him deeper and longer. Eventually, Castiel's legs lost their rigidity and his lower back sank into the mattress. Soft, tiny and barely-there moans began to periodically escape his lips as Dean's fingers moved within him. Dean had ceased kissing him a few moments previously, preferring instead to watch his face with rapt fascination, affection washing over him in waves. He reflected that seeing Castiel like this - eyes closed, nestled underneath him and slowly losing control – may be his favourite thing in the world. _

_Dean monitored the reactions of Castiel's body, as the angel had apparently lost the ability to do it himself. The ring of muscle around his fingers had relaxed, as had the angel's legs and spine. He was actually beginning to shift his hips upwards in tiny, gradual movements, subtly trying to gain more sensation. Dean removed his fingers gently, causing Castiel to be brought back to the present and frown up at him, questioning why the sensations he was so lost in were being taken away. Dean waited until Castiel's eyes showed that he remembered where this was going. _

"_You're sure?"_

_Castiel nodded again, letting his legs fall open wider in blatant invitation._

"_I've always been sure." _

_Dean couldn't have resisted if he tried.  
_

_Taking it slowly and as gently as he could, Dean eased forward, guiding himself with his hand, until he finally breached Castiel's entrance. He let out a hiss and a shuddering sigh, his head falling forward and his eyes closing with the pressure. At the same time, Castiel's head fell back against the pillow, his eyes tightly shut, sucking in a breath. It took all Dean's self-control not to slam violently forwards. He knew he could never seriously injure Cas, but he wanted this to be as comfortable as possible; as pleasurable a memory for the angel as it was sure to be for him._

_A small shift forwards with his hips and Castiel's eyes shot open, a gasp coming from between his parted lips. _

"_Are you ok?" Dean asked, his own voice unrecognisable to his ears. "Tell me what you want." _

_A hand landed unexpectedly on his ass, another at his scalp. Both hands tightened their grip until they were clutching and squeezing, wordlessly pleading. _

"_Move." Castiel's piercing eyes looked into Dean so deeply, he swore the angel could see his soul and read his mind simultaneously. It was almost overwhelming when combined with the hot tightness around him. The hand on his ass suddenly jerked, forcing Dean forwards and further into Castiel's body. "Now." The word broke in the centre with a gasp as Cas was filled further. Dean couldn't help but gaze down at him, utterly lost for words, drinking in his pleading and ravaged request. _

_The hand Castiel had on Dean's scalp pulled roughly, bringing his face to the angel's mouth once again and breaking him out of his trance. Castiel attacked Dean's mouth with his own, licking at the hunter's lips and forcing his tongue inside. _

_Dean stopped thinking and pushed forwards until he felt his thighs come into contact with Cas' skin. He barely paused for breath, instantly withdrawing and slamming back home. Any thoughts of being especially gentle and slow were abandoned. He couldn't hold back this time; not when Castiel groaned and hissed and let his mouth and legs part invitingly, going lax and pliant under Dean's control. Dean pulled his hips back again and again, snapping them forwards relentlessly each time. With every rough thrust Castiel let go of another ounce of control, groans and shudders racking his body. Dean wasn't even sure if the angel was aware of the sounds falling from his lips - being modest and reserved was in his nature. Dean wished Cas could see himself like this, wished he could appreciate his beauty the way Dean did. _

_Suddenly Castiel's eyes snapped open and he let out a sound that encompassed surprise, pleasure and shock all in one. His eyes remained blown wide, holding Dean's gaze as though an electric jolt had passed through him and was not leaving his body. Dean immediately understood, and smirked teasingly. _

"_There?" He asked with a smile, bending low to lick and suck the side of Castiel's neck as he continued to move in smooth, fluid motions. _

"_Y…yes." Castiel panted. Dean moved to the angel's mouth, snapping his pelvis forward in hopes of hitting the spot inside him again. He knew he had succeeded when Castiel's entire body tensed and he let out a groan that would make any porn star blush. Dean failed to stop himself smiling into their kiss at the reaction, each sound of pleasure from the angel encouraging him to thrust faster and push deeper. _

_Castiel was nearing the edge, Dean sensed. His legs were tensing again, his back bowing off the bed to meet Dean and his hips writhing in time with Dean's own. He snaked a hand under Cas' back and grasped around him, lifting himself up into a sitting position and pulling the angel with him to land in his lap with a soft thud. Cas let out a gasp of surprise, at both the sudden movement and the deeper penetration. His eyes shot open to search Dean's. _

"_It's ok." Dean reassured, brushing a hand through the angel's raven hair. "I trust you." _

_Castiel seemed to put a minimal amount of thought into his moral dilemma before giving himself over. He writhed, nestled in Dean's lap with his legs wrapped around the hunter's waist. Dean gripped his hip firmly with one hand, guiding Cas up and pulling him roughly back down, the two working in tandem with each other to establish a rhythm. Dean placed his other hand on Castiel's throbbing cock, squeezing hard and working him in time to their furious pace. Castiel's head fell forward and rested on Dean's shoulder, the subtle moans and heavy breathing flowing directly into his ear and mainlining straight to his dick. Dean felt his own muscles begin to tingle and tighten, the heat under his skin rising and a thin drip of sweat trickling down the centre of his back. He was about to speak when he was cut off by a voice he barely recognised._

"_Dean…I think I'm…" An animalistic noise followed in place of words, and Dean found he understood the nonsensical sounds perfectly. _

"_Come on, Cas." He breathed, finding it difficult to form words himself. "You're so close, come on." He panted furiously, forgetting completely what it felt like to breathe. He forgot everything that wasn't right now, here, on this bed. Anything that wasn't Castiel was banished from his memory, giving way to nothing but this moment; the angel he held, the feeling of being buried inside him, the sounds Castiel made when he was perched on the precipice of his orgasm. It was perfect, and Dean would be more than happy to never regain any other thoughts, feelings or memories. _

_A loud and cut-off sound came from Cas, still allowing Dean to manoeuvre him in his lap. Dean could almost feel the moment when he struck Castiel's prostate again, causing the desperate breaths and short yelps to escape more often. He was there; he was on the edge. Dean felt him constrict slightly around his desperately waiting cock, and he willed himself not to let go until Castiel did. All he needed was a little push. Dean grabbed Castiel's hair roughly with one hand, holding tight and jerking the angel's head. He collided their lips, allowing himself to groan wantonly into Castiel's mouth to let his own pleasure be known. With one hand still knotted in the angel's hair, Dean wrapped his other arm fully around Cas' lower back, holding him as close as their bodies would allow without sinking into each other. He broke away with a wet sound and moved his mouth to the side of Cas' head to breathe into his ear._

"_Come for me, Cas."_

_Instantly, Castiel's entire body tensed and his back shuddered and became taught as a bowstring. His head was momentarily thrown back, facing the ceiling, before he bowed forward and leaned desperately into Dean for support. Sounds like those of a strangled animal fell from his lips as Castiel's sweat-slicked forehead pressed against Dean's shoulder. Dean held his hair and lower back in equal measures of ferocity, as though letting his grip loosen would cause the angel to crumble. He felt fingernails sink deeply into his back, clutching and dragging with every movement._

"_Dean, close your eyes."_

"_What?" Dean panted, still thrusting upwards with what little strength he had left in his muscles. "Why?" _

"_Do it." Castiel breathed, the words breaking. "Now!"_

_Dean reluctantly closed his eyes at the same moment that a bright light, more burning than anything he could remember ever experiencing, assaulted his eyelids. The brightness was so overwhelming that it took him a fraction of a second to register the intense heat on his arms; the one holding Cas around his lower back was uncomfortably hot. A searing pain shot across his right forearm, blisters rising instantly on the skin. Dean ripped away the hand cradling Castiel's head with a sharp growl, pulling the limb tightly to his body out of instinct. He caught and corrected himself almost instantly, keeping the other arm wrapped securely around the angel despite the sweltering heat. _

_Jesus Christ, it fucking hurt…_

"_Dean…" Castiel failed to articulate himself in any way other than this, a pained and desperate mewling of a single name. It fell like some sort of pleading question and a revelation rolled into one, like the last words of a dying man. Another broken moan followed, words escaping him. _

_Encouraged by the sound of Castiel coming with his name on his lips, and finally managing to banish the pain momentarily, Dean finally peaked his own orgasm. As he rode it out, feeling his release leave him in waves, his one-armed grip on Castiel tightened. Dean kept his eyes obediently pressed shut so tightly that they stung. He nudged Castiel's head away from his shoulder so he could bury into the side of the angel's neck, and he groaned into the skin there as the waves subsided and he came down. _

_Gradually, the world came back to him. The heat was gone, but he couldn't decipher if the light had left with it. Dean was pretty sure his eyeballs had been burned out by whatever the fuck had just happened, closed eyes be damned. _

_He inhaled gently and smelled Castiel all around him, remembering where he was, who was nestled above him and whose skin he had nuzzled against. The touch of a gentle kiss pressed to the top of Dean's head. The body above him shifted in his lap and within his one-armed grip, a comfortable re-adjustment. Castiel sighed contentedly, relieved and warmed._

"_Dean? Are you ok?" The voice was soft, breathy but returning to normal. "Can you open your eyes?"_

_Dean was almost afraid to; afraid that the light was waiting to attack him and blind him. It was a strange juxtaposition of feelings; he felt like he wanted to chase the light, to curl up inside it and have it envelop him. He wanted to look at it and touch it, although he also knew on an instinctual level that this was dangerous. The light was intimidating and too much, frightening and capable of hurting him. His eyelids burned at the memory._

_Burned._

_Shit._

_As though in a tidal wave, the pain returned to his right forearm like a ravaging flood of fire, banishment forgotten. His eyes opened hesitantly, uncomfortably, everything seeming too dark now. Dean looked upwards and into the face of Castiel, and instantly the pain didn't seem too bad at all by comparison. Castiel nestled in his lap looking down at him, his bright eyes sparkling and swimming, the pupils wide like he was drugged. His hair was mussed and tangled like he had been sleeping, and his face was flushed and his chest sheened with sweat. Dean noticed that Castiel's stomach – and his own – were coated with thin splashes of the angel's come. _

_He was beautiful, and it made the pain seem insignificant for a moment. Dean could watch post-sex Cas forever. _

"_What's wrong?" Dean didn't like the tone of Cas' voice. It had suddenly dropped and turned serious, and a frown was creasing his serene expression. _

"_Nothing…" Dean trailed off. "I just…well…" At a loss to describe what exactly had caused the injury, Dean raised it up between their bodies, only now examining it in detail. The flesh was heavily blistered and charred in places. His stomach churned at the sight. _

_Castiel's eyes widened and he leapt out of Dean's lap, causing him to withdraw too quickly and subsequently flinch. Castiel was completely unaffected by the sudden change._

"_Dean! I…I'm so sorry."_

_Before Dean could process his movements, Castiel moved towards him and brushed a hand over the blistered arm. The tingling sensation of healing spread over the skin, instantly providing relief. Dean outwardly sighed at the feeling, ever thankful for the cooling touch of an angel being available whenever he should need it. He watched in morbid fascination as fresh, untainted flesh smoothed over the raw burns. _

"_What the fuck was that, anyway?" Dean asked when Castiel withdrew his hand. Castiel lay back on the bed, and Dean thanked the Heavens that they had just engaged in specific stress-relieving activities – otherwise the angel would probably be way more self-admonishing and guilt-ridden about the injury._

"_My wings." He answered plainly. "They are released during the first mating, in their true form."_

_"True form?"_

"_Yes." Cas still sounded somewhat solemn through the relaxation. Dean watched him cautiously. "Not a physical manifestation that humans can perceive – their true form. Pure grace and concentrated light."_

"_Ah." Dean crawled across the bed towards Cas, laying down beside him and pulling the angel against his body. "Sounds…impressive. Wish I coulda seen 'em." _

"_Not possible." Castiel sounded gravely serious, all angel-business. "I shouldn't have allowed myself to lose control like that. It was selfish of me, I still endangered you."_

_"I bet they look good." Dean tried for comforting, stroking a hand over Castiel's arm._

_"Be thankful you still have your eyes, Dean." He replied. _

_Dean kissed the top of Castiel's head, secretly revelling in the realisation that he was the first - and would now be the only - person that Castiel revealed his wings to. The thought caused an embarrassing flutter in his stomach, but just this once he entertained the feeling. He made a mental note – in the future, he would most certainly discover what a physical manifestation of that brilliant light could possibly look like. He spoke softly into the angel's hair._

_"We'll just have to work on your self-control."_


End file.
